muse

sketchy pianos

Muse,

I guess it was easy to see I'm breaking. I know I'm not very good at hiding it, but around you, I don't have to (anymore). I guess that part of your compassion comes from the fact you're worried about me, and as much as I don't believe it... the worry comes from the fact you care about me. But that still doesn't explain that damned intuition of yours. You told me you were good at understanding people, and even predicting them, but I didn't know to what extent. Now, I think I have some idea; but I'm really still not sure. I'm never sure, with you. Never... and that's not a good thing, or even a bad thing, but it's definitely a thing - at the very least.

I suppose I just wanted to be able to thank you, at least through words I know you'll read, because I can't always say these things out loud. Like most people, I'm something of a coward. I find it much easier to admit these things behind computer screens; one part because of writing and three parts because it's easier to hide behind a screen and 101 keys. I just wanted to thank you for being my rock, because lately no one else has been. I wanted to thank you just for understanding... everything. For understanding why I'm breaking, even when I can't.

But I'm sure, that like that piano, I can be fixed. Just a paint job and a tuning is really all it needs. And yeah, it's pretty sketchy. And yeah, I'm pretty messy. But even if the repairs won't be that simplistic for me, I'm going to take this time to remind you that you build robots. You build and drive robots. You, sir, are excellent at fixing things, and whether you could tell or not, you're fixing me too.

Thank you.

Carrillo.