BITTER SWEET. | J. JK

THIRTY-TWO.

"There are numerous ways in which God can makes us lonely."

09.03.13

Dear Diary,

In the cold silence of the night, I enter the building where I always found him. Always at the same time. Always sitting at the piano. Always alone. So immersed in his world that everything stopped around him. Him and the piano. In such perfect harmony, whenever his long fingers hovered lightly over the already rusted keys, the paint scraped rolling down the brown wood of the piano.

I never understood this fascination of his with this piano in particular. This was on the verge of ruin, the cheap wood fracturing, turning green from rotting. It had nothing great. Nothing of value. But when he played it, a fresh, refreshing love was felt at every touch of a note harmonically. It admired me how a piano on the verge of death, could bring so much life to him. When they joined together, they formed a single being. Free from pain and sadness. A being in peace.

This was his addiction. This was his refuge. This was his source of joy. This was his family. At least what's left of it.

Sometimes I would find myself watching him play for hours and hours on end, until his knuckles began to bleed, until he could no longer feel his fingers due to numbness and soreness. Even so, his smile won't fade. He was always very quiet. 

«Yes. No. I don't know». That was pretty much everything. 

In a way, all his emotional being, all his weaknesses, all his anxieties, all his doubts danced through the fragile, delicate notes, releasing themselves effortlessly. I don't believe there is anything or anyone who knows him better than this pitiful piano.

It knew all his thoughts, foresaw all his actions, read his feelings without him having to state them. From the touch. Just the touch. The pressure applied whether frail, whether forceful, whether violent, whether calm, whether sensitive, whether cold. It was all that was needed for this practically destroyed instrument to convey what was going on in his mind.

Perhaps this is the fascination of this piano. I understand it now. It brought life back to his dormant body. That life he has long since lost. Swallowed by loneliness and the uncertain certainty that shutting down his true self he was the best option to avoid suffering.

"Did you like it?" He turns to me, his faint smile remaining on his lips. "I wrote it last night."

 "It's beautiful." I give back the smile, approaching and sitting on the piano bench with him. This was the only time I could see him genuinely smiling. When he spoke about his beloved piano.

"It's about this piano, you know? I wrote this song about it. "He runs his fingers gently over the strained keys. One touch only showing his love for it.

I stand up and look at him blankly. For a moment I pondered if I'm really doing the right thing. If in choosing his destiny for him, I am defending him from the cruelty of the world. By making him cruel too. Completely insensitive towards the pain of others.

"There is someone who wants to meet you. He will change your life. For the better I hope, " I say, pushing those thoughts out of my mind. After all, I have to do what is best for him. "He's going to be our Boss. He will be the one who will lead us through this forgotten by God world we live in. "