Yoongi: 25 July Year 15

“Yoongi.” I sat down in front of the piano as soon as I entered the living room. I didn’t even have time to wipe my sweat. I wiped my sticky fingers on my t-shirt. Mom spread open the pages of the sheet music. I couldn’t see it that well. I blinked a few times. I just ran under the hot sun for an hour. My heart was beating so loudly that I couldn’t even hear myself breathe. Sweat ran down my back and pooled at my waist. My fingers were trembling. 

 

“Min Yoongi,” my mom said, making me come back to my senses. “You aren’t playing Chopin properly at all. Should you really be composing right now?” She tapped the sheet music while she spoke. What was I playing just now? I couldn’t remember. “Again, from the start,” Mom said in a low voice. Again. Again. Again. I played the same page again, over and over. With no time to cool off, my body kept sweating. My head was empty and I felt like I was going to throw up. Maybe that’s why I did it. I ignored the sheet music. I ignored Mom. I played with the feelings that were exploding inside me on the tips of my fingers. Mom grabbed my hands and pulled them off the keys and said, “This isn’t the right feeling!” 

 

“Please, just stop,” I yelled while suddenly standing up. Mom stared at me like she was frozen. “Just stop. Just stop already.” The words poured out of my mouth. I even jumped up and down and started pulling my hair out. Eventually I was holding her trophy. I faced the piano and threw it. One of the keys broke off and flew towards me, grazing my cheek.

 

 

@shootinghearts_

 

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