Pianos

I am outside, on Halloween night. Same song, playing over, and over, and over again, ringing in my ears. Irritation. Five hours a day, listening to that bloody instrument. I cannot take it anymore. Might as well throw it in the fire, because now I hate it. I hate it, and every single one of those keys, and my sister’s fingers dancing across them. Hate, hate that piano. Hate t hose songs, which I used to love. She ruined it for me. She had to practice her piano, from the minute she gets home, till the minute she has to stop for my dad to go to bed. From 3 till 8, everyday. 5 hours. 5 long, annoying, painful, mournful, stressful hours, for an instrument that was once beautiful, but now ugly as a swamp. I wish it was at a swamp, so I don’t have to sit outside, with my fingers and toes going numb from the almost November air. Cold, so very cold. But it’s better than listening to the deadly piano inside.

I do play an instrument too, the ukulele. But I never get to practice, because of the bloody piano. And it’s loud. I can go away into the basement, hiding under blankets, and I would still hear that bloody instrument. God, I hate the piano. She ruined my love. I am now going to sit outside, in the farthest part from the backyard, and practice the instrument I love, the ukulele. I am going to bring two chairs, one for me and the other for the laptop, and youtube going, showing me how to play songs. I am going to take my ukulele down, and practice. Practice, without hearing that bloody piano. I am going to bring down a big blanket, and hope my fingers don’t go numb in the cold fall air, like they are now. Bloody piano. I hate them. My love has disappeared of them.