The Violinist

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Instead of sitting down and talking, I turn on the T.V. and switch the chanel to the computer. I moved it into the living room seeing as the house is now mine. With this I can play anything I want from decent speakers and be left alone. I select a playlist comprised of the Weeknd, blackbear, XXXtentacion, Panic at the Disco, and NAV. Slightly eclectic but my tastes very depending on what I feel that day. I may want to depressed and listen to this or if I feel angry, I'll play Eminem, Tupac, N.W.A., Scarlxrd, and similar rappers. With a raised eyebrow in my direction, I pick up a note book and turn to a page named, "An Ounce of White Gold". I may play violin, however that is not my only interest. I have always loved music and wanted to make it in any style I feel is different or unique. My current "project" draws inspiration from the 20's and the swing style of music. The name itself also pays homage to life the upper elite lived, ones of luxury and ease. As I write little notes and tweaks to lyrics, she stares at my notebook. I look up and think to myself how I can bridge two verses and a baseline. With no inspiration I set down my notebook and open a music file on the computer. She is still enamored by my work, watches in silence as I play one of the melodies to my songs. As it plays, I realize I actually hate it and I pause it and stand. I walk to the backyard and turn up the music that was playing and close my eyes. Memories start to wash over covering me in goosebumps and I shiver despite the relatively warmer weather. In the midst of my inner reflection, she stands watching me and I do not turn around for fear of her seeing my tears.