I am a classical pianist. I have been for nearly thirteen years now, and I absolutely love it. At first, I was merely intrigued as a child as to how someone could seemingly bang on white and black keys and produce such a marvelous sound. I began to learn the components of music and how to read music and all that jazz. It was difficult at first, but it seemed like my brain was wired to think in terms of music. It suddenly became easy and almost effortless to read the notes on a page, and my love for music, specifically piano, began to blossom.
Music slowly began to take over my life, and as I got older, I began to spend hours and hours at the piano. Now that I am a part of many music clubs and participate in festivals and auditions, I spend quite a bit of time playing and polishing my pieces. I love how graceful my fingers feel as I glide up and down the keys with ease. My left wrist often pains me due to tendonitis and carpal tunnel, but I’ve learned to play through the pain. Sometimes beauty is sacrifice I suppose. Although I do enjoy playing in front of crowds and judges and other musicians, I play piano for myself. I get lost in the music for hours on end, not really caring about the world. My favourite thing is playing piano while it is raining outside, with a cup of tea by my side. There’s something very serene about that.
Piano is my therapy. I tend to play whenever I feel glum. It makes me feel powerful for creating something beautiful, even when I feel quite the opposite.