Sounds a little self-deprecating, needy, co-dependent, I know. But it's true. I'm a strange creature. My self is simple, a piano line on repeat. And I've always had Pavel backing me up on trumpet, playing counterpoint. Pericles laying down a punctuating baritone on trombone. The Count on rhythm guitar, steady and strong.
It got quiet for a time. I couldn't hear the others. I faded back, a line in the dark, playing the same thing over and over, despondent and desperate. I'd forgotten how to be interesting, how to move and shift with the strains around me. Inflexible and sad, empty and interminable.
But I remember now, as Jon strums out on the ukelele, as Elliot lays down the beat on the kit. I can hear Pigtails singing across the river, doing her own thing, but always strangely in tune with the rest of it.
And all of it, old and new, it adds complexity. It adds color. It changes things, forces me to think, to dream again. It makes me sharp, cycles through thoughts and ideas I haven't used in ages. Makes me stronger, makes me faster.
I am just one line in the air on repeat. It is the people around me that make me beautiful.
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