I’ve never once finished a piano piece on my own. I always had the nagging of my mother, or the disapproving tension filled lessons I received from my piano teacher that drove me to finish the juvenile pieces in those hundreds of books my mother bought for us. But, when I stopped taking lessons and got music on my own, and now own a binder filled with pieces, I haven’t learned to play a single one through the whole way on my own. I don't know why this is. I love music, and I'll always be sure of that. I also love the feeling that comes with finishing pieces that all the time spent working on it has come down to a few minutes of melodic bliss. The fact that its so easy to quit is maddening. My fingers will fumble on the keys, and that's all it takes for me to slam my hands on the piano creating a cacophony leaving me to get off the bench and walk away. For millionth time. I have nothing to be proud of with the mere forty measures of "difficult melodies" that people seemed to be impressed by. If I can't hit the chord at the end, all of it means nothing.
Stuck in the middle of the chorus,
xoxo
Only That Invisible Girl
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