Hope is not lost

The sun may shine bright but you are far brighter

 I always looked up to my parents, they were my role-models. They were everything I wanted to be, so I learnt what they did, they called it composing or creating music. I called it magic. I wanted to be great like my mother and father.

I loved my parents' music, especially my mothers, it was warm and sunny, but now...

Now my mother won't be able to compose another song. Her warm music I felt is gone, replaced by those dreaded sirens and wails. Now all that's left is this cold empty feeling I don't like, not one bit.

Now... Now my father won't look at me, everytime i look at him all I see is rage and resentment towards me, the child who hurt his wife. I feel like he hates me, but at the same time I feel like he loves me. I wonder if it is because I look like my mother.

Mom, my song hurt her. She won't be able to make music again because of me. I ruined her music all because my music couldn't make her happy. I can't let that happen again. I'll work harder, faster and create a song my mother would be proud of, one that can save someone.

I must continue to compose. I can't stop yet, I won't.

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My sister always liked music, she was a sickly child so she spent her time in the hospital. The only things she could do there was listen to music and sleep, so she listened to music. She always talked about how she loved the way their music sounded.

One day we went out to a music store and a live band was playing. It was a coincidence that they were there, it was also a coincidence that my sister loved that band. So we stayed to watch. That day she smiled brighter than ever, that day was also the day i decided to create music to keep my sisters smile on her face.

Mother and father said it was a bad idea, disapproved of it, I think they were scared I would fall behind. But even so I still wished to play, disobeying my parents wishes for my selfish self. My parents hated that idea, taking all my music away and with it my dreams. This was for my own good, they said.

My identity that was holding on by a thread was ripped away leaving me a shell of who I was.

I may not know much about myself anymore but I know this much.

I want to sing with everyone else, even if my voice falters and I stay silent, even if my voice is hoarse from singing so loud, I want to, no I have to keep going, to keep this one dream alive.

I must keep moving towards it, i cant falter or stop or else i fail, I can't.

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My dream was to perform with my sister on a stage we built, but i can't do that now, it's far too late. Now my dream has been crushed, I now wish to protect her from the harsh world so she doesn't get crushed like I did.

I used to be liked, I was the popular kid, the one who would always help you, the kind one. Until the rumour, that nasty rotten no good rumour that ruined me. It's funny I never thought I would get knocked off my throne, yet here I am at the bottom. I suppose deep down I knew it would happen.

The one thing that kept me company was music, music was my solace, my freedom, my calm amidst a storm, maybe that's what led me to where I am today, if i never listened to that song i would still be up on my throne helping people with a smile that wasn't my own.

Maybe then my sister wouldn't look at me with sadness in her eyes, wouldn't pursue a dream that doesn't belong to her just to make me happy. I can't let her kill her feelings for my sake, that won't keep her safe