turning to salt

i wonder about fear.

tonight i watched disturbia, and it served as a little bit of a double-whammy. it was relatively scary, you know, serial killers jumping out from behind corners, etc., but it was also one of those cheesy love story plot lines where he gets the girl in the end. "he" being shia labeouf, not the serial killer.

so it scared me a little and then made my lonliness pang (even if it was cliche). and after yesterday and watching becoming jane, that was the last thing i needed.

or maybe the first.

i played piano like i haven't in a long time when it ended. i played like i needed it, you know: when you slow everything down so that every note strikes a chord, and you close your eyes and let your fingers feel their way around the keyboard. if you're the emotional type, or maybe just the musically-self-aware-type, tears may even come.

i haven't cried in a long time, but i can't think of a place where i would want to. tomorrow would be perfect, except there will be people everywhere. i might drive over and see if our dear friend the black piano is accessible. but all the lights will be on, so maybe i won't.

i'm alright, really - i'm just in the stage of conviction where my denial is the queen of the hill. meaning, i know i am so wrong, but i can't see it because at the end of the day, i really don't want to.

i'm stuck.

and doing fine, thank you.