It's when you've finally let go. When you've decided to say ok, that it all comes crashing down. The background music sounds like Lightsick by Zoal Jesus - anxious and sad. The kind of questioning music you search for when your heart has finished roping the string around your finger. Your chest is heavy; the pressure overbearing. Life has decided to come streaming into your life, flashing LIVE FEED, THIS IS WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING. You've taken a misstep and 5 months have happened behind your back.

yet here you stand. the lights are going out. and you're alone. having told your secret.

I haven't written anything in awhile. Lack of inspiration. Washed away by the concerns of life. Settled somewhere far out in the oceans of time by the tides of each day. But I'll see if I can help you.

Last time I wrote I told you that you remind me of a Hans Zimmer song. Moving through space on your own terms. Finding solitude in the lulls of the composer. Finding strength in the crescendo. But recently I've come to the realization that it's not just Hans. I find you in most instrumental pieces. Sometimes it's your smile. Sometimes it's your boy torn blue eyes. Most often it's a memory that I've managed to keep somewhere. But it's not the memories that remind make a song you; it's the mystery an instrumental piece holds deep at its core. Try it sometime. Listen. Somewhere in the chords of the piano or the strings of the violin you'll find a story. Your story is probably different from mine; the second time I listen, is often different than the first. I always come back for more though. Always finding something new, rejuvenating. Something inspiring.

They are you. Instrumental songs. Or maybe they are just my version of you. I keep coming back for more.

Yiruma has a song called The River Flows in You. I imagine it's the kind of song you'd hear while waiting for someone you care about to arrive. You'd lose yourself in the gradual exercise of putting piano notes into words. Making conversation with the song, as if perhaps it was in fact the loved one on his way down to meet you. Light like his steps as he cascades the grande stairs, the notes find their way so perfectly placed in time. Your heart races with the anticipation of seeing his face, brushing his hair out of his eye and gently kissing him on his cheek. And for whatever reason, in that moment you'd decide it was a perfect place for a dance. Whether a Waltz or just the simple guidance of one hand in another's.

My story today, however, I imagine Yiruma's song might be something that you'd use to rest your heart, perhaps settle your mind after a match. You'd find comfort in the seeming joy it exhales. Then maybe one day the person you care about would arrive and you'd dance your way out of your skin.