What would have happened if I had never stopped playing the
piano?
Would my
life have turned into a beautiful song heard across the world?
Would I still
be so insecure about my compositions,
My lyrics
forgotten on a hard drive?
What would
have happened if I had said nothing and simply kept playing
The
melodies inside my head – would I have become a true composer?
What if I
had never failed that crucial math exam?
Would I have
become fluent in German,
Moving
to this country like I once dreamt?
What if I
hadn’t backed down and tried to study Asian languages at university?
Would I have
travelled across Asia like I always wanted?
What would
have happened?
– A question I have asked myself too many times
When
regret feels larger than everything I have achieved so far.
…
But I chose
poorly – the times were different, my worldview limited,
Unsure of
what I could and couldn’t do…
So many
wasted opportunities.
And now I
try to make peace with those choices, never quite happy.
As a
little child, scared of an angry adult, I quit music
– My first
and biggest heartbreak.
I still
mourn the lack of resources – small town problems.
Circumstances
led to the exam failure, though it was never my greatest regret.
I still
blame my younger self for never trying again to switch my major.
It was
never the change of city I feared, only my ability to succeed.
…
And now I
still ask the same questions, mostly out of habit, knowing it is too late.
My career
no longer brings the joy I once had.
I lack
creativity, I hate working with numbers.
The only
glimmer of hope is the wordplay I have in the evenings when no one is watching
When I can
safely break down in tears, tired of the small, stupid daily games I play.
And in
the middle of the night, tucked in bed, I still wonder
What might
have happened if I stayed with the piano
Instead of
standing frozen among strangers in the dim concert hall
Letting others
sing the life once I knew as mine.
For a couple
of hours, I let my body feel the life that slipped past me.
And every
weekend, like clockwork, I pour my heartbreaks into poems like this one,
Stubbornly,
I try to keep the last fragment of my soul alive.
Somewhere
between the vocals of the songs I listen to and the words I claim as mine,
A small,
quiet part of me still refuses to fade away,
It keeps
me breathing, something I hold onto.
Yet I drift
without direction, unable to see my path ahead.
I never
stop moving simply because another day arrives,
Though the
life I have feels empty, unfamiliar -
Just
another adult demand…
