My body, my instrument, my key

I’m a tall young woman.
I can probably fit most of my friends under my arm.
And that’s fine.
They say it makes me the most wonderful hug giver.
So when people, in an effort to be endearing, start calling me “princess”, I can never quite relate to the term.

The fact that I’ve always been a bit of a tomboy, never helped my case.
Hanging out with the boys, always covered up in bruises, but never broken.
I portrayed no risk of making their worlds or their minds turn upside down with my flowing gown, tiara and sweet perfume. My bow and arrow and my good, but a bit worn out, boots made for a peace-offering sign.
I was best expected to help them in their conquests.
I probably did, once or twice.

But I never felt like one of them.

I discovered, quite late, that the music the world of ball gowns and old-fashioned courtship played tugged the strings of my heart.
Nowadays, I transpose them into meaningful conversations on old coffee shops, walks on parks holding hands and genuine kindness. That’s the key I adore to play and be played in.

Sadly, fate dealt me the hand of being too heavy and too big of an instrument to carry.

Some strong, courageous people have tried to pick me up, allured by what they called “a rich sound”. Consequence of that big hollow space I call heart, where the sound can jump around without any obstacles.
The sound of their voices and the twiddling of their fingers always filled me up with the most wonderful melodies. But each one of them got eventually tired and, without notice, ended up fading into complete silence.

And silence is what I’m used to.

Like a draft sheet music, my body, my heart and my memories are marked with endless symphonies that never gained form.

My instrument and my key, I know them intimately.
And although I’ve tried my hand at writing, I was never much of a composer.
Even if I was, I would surely be faced with the most aggressive writers block.

So, while the silence stretches, let my heart be filled with the occasional breeze of a few notes until, one day, it becomes home of a full orchestra and the most beautiful concerto.


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