the sound of the keys makes me happier..
these are really the only times.. when words just can not relieve the pressure.. adhesive to these wounds and encouraged by the way i tend to stifle them until i sit here on this bench in the middle of the morning and pound away at the keys.. stories of a simple life thoroughly complicated by a constant uncertainty.. and it is only appropriate to tell these stories through notes and crescendos.. laying off of the heavier keys because they relate too closely to the ugliest expressions.. i like to break the silence and i am thankful that everyone else is sleeping heavily enough to allow me these freedoms without stirring.. really.. these are the only times.. the drive home is always so inspiring and sometimes what i am hearing just coincides with the way that i am feeling.. it goes from head to heart to thoughts.. to a point where there is honestly nothing that i can say.. i just sit and play.. and these sounds are mine.. my tendency to avoid expressions of any other form has offended more than a few.. trust that i wish to reach out and indulge in that connection but these vital reflections occur only through constant and meticulous processing and by the time my thoughts make any sense.. the only way that i can speak out loud out is through a stream of steady measures when no one else is listening.. my melodic epiphanies and my the honest moments are all revealed through these little secrets that i keep until i can play them out loud and know that they are just.. just mine..