i had explained it (sort of like) this:
a long time ago, i played the violin. i had a music teacher when i was a preteen that played several instruments but the violin was his devotion. i watched him play this instrument and something awoke in me. watching him, with his eyes closed, swaying with each string he caressed with the bow was magic. i wanted to feel what he was feeling.
years later, i bought a used instrument i found at a pawn shop. i played with none of the overwhelming feeling that my instructor had, but i longed for it. i played even though I was awful and i envisioned cats screeching in the car park as i played.
yet i continued.
it was my everything. i played even though i know the “music” never reflected properly the song in my heart.
i played still.
one day, i noticed people would stop by my window and listen. it freaked me out so i would stop and hide under the windowsill.
i played songs that i would then hear my friends humming days later. i played and was recorded.
i played and my lovers & confidants would quietly heed.
i played until someone told me that i was good.
i had a baby. my heart then belonged to her.
i have not played a note since.
it was once part of every crevice of my life. now it is not. it meant the world to me. now i hardly remember playing.
if asked, i say no, i do not play an instrument. it is not a lie, it was something i did in the past.
if you loved me and found out that i did once play and when i played, sometimes people heard me. I NEVER PLAYED FOR ANYONE. i played for me and only me. if someone else enjoyed it, understand that it was not my intention.
“why will you not play for me?“, you pout. “you played for so many others“.
i try to explain to you that i never played for anyone. i played because i enjoyed it. it was for me.
“yes but others did hear your music! why will you not play for me?“
i shake my head and tell you that was the past. you refuse to hear me. you want me to share something that once conquered my life, but no longer means anything to me.
you hear a recording of me playing. you start hearing this song in your dreams. you sometimes hear me mouthing the notes even when i am replying to you about what i would like for dinner. i tell you that i love you, but you start to disbelieve me.
“please play for me“, you whisper.
i cannot.
i watch you wither away. i am not sure how to reach you. you never laugh any more. i sometimes see a smile on your lips while you sleep, but it is gone as soon as you open your eyes.
you kiss me out of obligation. your enthusiasm is obsolete. i ask you what i can do, it is killing me watching you like this. you say,
“play for me. you did it for others but you cannot do it for me. why are they better than i am? tell me what they did so i can be like them. please! i will do anything“.
i throw my hands up in the air.
you cry all the time. you never leave the house. your friends worry, but they do not know what to do. you post all the clips you can find of me playing.
i write to you. i write stories were you are the love of my life and we live happily ever after. i get discouraged, why do you dismiss everything i do for you? why is my love not enough?
“play for me“
i think about restringing my violin. it is old and has not been tended to in nearly two decades. i want you to be happy but this brings me no joy. i feel shame. “why shame?,” you inquire. “you played so beautifully“. i cannot explain to you how it felt when someone acknowledged that my affection translated into something they could feel as well. IT WAS MINE. now to prove that i love you, i have to try to overcome the feelings i have and do something that i consider to be degrading.
i try, because i love you.
when i begin, you grimace. “no,” you say with anger. “no, this is not how it sounded. you must not have any passionate feelings for me! what you are playing is terrible!“
the intensity of aversion you have towards me now is worse than before i played. i smash the violin on the floor. I NEVER WANTED TO PLAY IT EVER AGAIN ANYWAY!!!!
(i understand now. i am sorry)
