Titanic

For the past few evenings, I have heard some kind of music coming from my upstairs neighbour’s apartment. I’m pretty sure it’s the background music of some game, or some kind of pop song, but through the ceiling it sounds to me like the soundtrack of the Titanic movie, or at least the version I had to practice for my keyboard lessons back when I was eleven.

I’m not eleven anymore, haven’t been for a while. Now I’m a 20-year old guy sipping from his glass of vodka, getting drunk alone. Some would call me a man, and I try to act like I am a man as well. But the truth is that I’m just that same child, getting frustrated about not being able to comfortably switch between the cords in the song. But now I’m frustrated about being alone, without money, without luck, it seems, without clear aspirations about the future. Now I’m frustrated about not knowing who I am or who I will be, when I’ll be, whether I’ll be anything at all.

I’ll guess the road forward is quite clear though, and still the same as it was for the eleven year old me: put the sheet music back into the folder, and practice again tomorrow for another 20 minutes, and the day after, until I’m able to play those cords perfectly.

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