Some days, all I want to do is disappear. I want to go to a place where nothing can hurt me, no one can interrupt me, and where I’m lost. Lost in a world of black and white; a world that only I can bring color to with a simple touch of hair to steel. One where I can feel the power pouring from my fingertips guiding them through fluid motions up and down the sleek neck of my violin.
This world is not hard for me to get to. It’s there, right within reach, just underneath my bed. Slipping my hand into the semi-darkness, I grip the handle and drag out my portkey. In the bed of red velvet lies my violin—mine since I was twelve years old. It shines and glimmers in the sun pouring through the window and I ache to hold it. Carefully, I pick it up and caress its smooth, cool skin. Placing it on my shoulder and nestling it underneath my chin, I reach for the bow. Two become one as the bow glides across the strings. The first note emerges and I am quickly lost in the world of music.
Playing from memory, I close my eyes and fully become immersed in the emotions of the song. I feel each note as it’s played and emerges from the violin, and my entire body will be poured into the song as I make sense of the black dots in my mind. As I go deeper into this world, I soon forget the one I am in. Slowly, I return to earth as the last note fades away. The room is silent, but my heart no longer is. It is alive. Music touches me in a way nothing else can. It is as if the notes are the only way my heart can truly speak.