I just spent a full hour on the piano.

Everything was her.

I don't know. No matter how much I try to learn, no matter how much I try to be.

I guess this sucks, but the piano will always be where I express myself the best.

It seems sad in a way. Because it's looked down upon I guess. I mean, covers of pop songs lose a part of their meaning when you leave them as notes, and the piano only covers some genres well.

But you know, it's lamer. It's not something you do at talent shows. Or performance shows. You don't go there and play the piano, no one wants that.

But I know the steps, the fingerings so well. And she said she loved it better than when I sang.

In a way it's true. It's a damnation against my dreams and hopes but it's true.

Cause I can pour myself into it. My emotions, the way I really feel. I can't do that when I sing. It's all about the technique, still is.

There's a bunch of music I have/had for her that I wish I could play for her.

Which hey, might be creepy. But. I really do.

If i get the chance I'll play these songs.

1. that random piano piece that I wrote for her that is fuzzy and ever changing and I never told her about
2. the colours of the wind
3.kiss the rain
4. syndicate
5. love story - the old one
6. sweet and low

And every single thing she wants me to.

I do. So so much.

I guess I did know that night. I knew that something was going to happen.

Somehow. That's why you see. That's why.

The charade is over. And that song. It's not us, but it's definitely you. Somehow.