**Under the Influence of Sickness, Syrup, Sweaters and Socks

Perhaps this isn't the best thing to share, but it was interesting.

I realized, after razing through most of what I've learned on piano, that some of it causes the same catharsis as screaming, but more effectively. Quickening of the blood.

All the anquish is thrown out, but instead of on one sliding pitch, it's shattered into a hundred fragments of color and tossed out the window to hang in mid air like the falling rain captured in still shots. And the images of anguish form like mosaics behind me, around me, and shatter with each chord and cluster, reforming into new shapes of old thoughts; it's the exploration of anguish and turmoil through music and the redundant rush of notes sliding and clashing and holding and speaking and colliding and hissing and screaming in a kaleidoscope of defiance, uncertainty, pain and hope.

Because even though darkness seeps from all corners as internal and external shadows that hiss and whisper and tear, hope slips in and out with each thud of circulating blood. Blood.

Scarlet relief.

Voices slip in and out of my ears as the world speaks to me; everything is said. Or it feels that way. Go. Die. Do. Sleep. Be. Hide. Flee. Fight. Calm. Scream. Hug. Desert. Hold. Forget. Remember. Act. Don't. Survive. And as much as I try to hold onto them, the voices that I hear more often, the kind voices, the tolerant voices, people who care, the words slip away like sand in the darkness and I'm left alone again, and I know that to surive I must make my own light, and I search for the sound of a heartbeat. The precious sound of light. Search for something so flimsy. Hope. The sound of hope. A heartbeat. Because no heartbeat is an end and a beginning, but a beginning with an end, and maybe someone else beginning and remembering that end.

I remember the first request: don't forget me. But what does. . . ? Why ask something so vague; it just seemed so important at the time. I can still remember how important it felt, how important it is, but why? Why is it so important? I don't want eternal remembrance, so why ask someone to remember me? Is it? It is. If I met someone drowning in darkness, and I had a light that person couldn't see, wouldn't I ask that the person remember the light existed and would forever, even if I did not? Now it makes sense. **

-brain collapses-