#14

It's funny how a song that has no words can describe everything you're feeling.

There's this classical song by this pianist named George Winston called February Sea and it's so good. Like he doesn't say anything, not at all, but the way he plays, wow. It just intrigues me and it catches me and i focus on that and everything else just seems so far away like nothing can touch me. Like I'm in the zone and the only thing that I can hear, feel, see, smell, taste are the music notes and the feelings that he's expressing. And like I like it because you can interpret it in anyway you feel; there's no right or wrong.

He plays with such emotion, such strength yet he's so subtle it's amazing. It's unlike anything else and the more I listen, the more wrapped up I become until I'm apart of the music, like it's ringing in my head for days on end and I've never expreienced that with a song. It's calming yet it's exciting and it makes me think but then again it makes me focus on the music that he's playing instead of the problems that I'm experiencing.

It makes me cry, but a soothing cry. Like a release of emotion and it's painless. It's like crying without knowing your crying. It like a natural high when I hear it, and it's hard to explain to people who don't feel the same way. It's like trying to explain it makes you sound crazy like you need help or something because in all honesty it's just a song. But it's more than a song. It's your emotions, it's your issues, your heart out there. And that's what it really is. It's like he's playing my heart on the piano.

It's kind of a bad thing sometimes though. Because I cry every time I hear his music. Because it's like he's saying everything I'm feeling. All the words I can't find, all the things I want to express and get out and have understood by everyone get expressed every time I play one of his songs. And I could listen to his music on repeat for endless amounts of time. His melancholy pieces are my favorite because those are the ones that get everything out in the open. His ferocity is unbelievably amazing and it possesses me in ways that I never thought classical music could. It takes you on a journey. Like when he going slow he's explaining it to you, like preparing you and then when it's fast and loud it's expressive with so much emotion and so much feeling and I always feel like he's saying "hey, this is how it is. This is how I feel, so listen to me."

It's like he speaks without words. And expresses himself in ways I didn't know you could do with out movement. But he is moving. His music is moving and shaping and touching your heart and extracting the things that you're trying to get out and putting in things that you're not necessarily sure you wanted there, but now that they're there it's so peaceful, but not and I'm totally rambling about an classical song. But I'm really not.

I'm just trying to explain everything. It's like everything is building up inside of me, to the point where I'm just like fuck this, I can't take it anymore. But when I hit play and the notes from his piano come out, it's like a release. It's like he's saying, "yeah this situations sucks, probably worse than you'd expect, but listen to me help you get through this. Listen to me get your point across and fuck the rest of the world because it's about this moment and what's going on now and not about everything else. It's about you; you and this music and your heart and your pain and your anger and frustration and your disappointments and your disapprovals and your failures and your sadness. It's about that. And I'll help you through this, so just listen." It's like the it gets it. It gets me and it's listening to me say absolutely nothing. And it's letting me cry it out because shit happens and it's okay for me to not be okay.

And that's what it really is. Letting me know that everything's not okay, but that's okay.