I feel that, sometimes, it is my music that understands me. And I it. The pure tones and crystalline voices of its singing. The piano. The notes so lush and soft. Dark and endearing. Fast and happy. The piano is and can be everything. It will always be everything. To me, at least.

Just like me, the piano can feel. It can bring feeling. Meaning. I can play it just as it moves me. Eyes closed, fingers flying. Music. Sometimes I can move my lips…sometimes I can sing along. I like to make up tunes that fit my mood…to match my emotions and sometimes I play already written pieces for the same reasons. Release. My Immortal is sadness. Hello is depression. Spring and Swan Lake and Ode to Joy are happiness and glory!

The piano. My freedom. My release. The piano’s clear voice as it sings beneath my fingers—like silver bells—is everything in the world. It matches me. It is me.