Some days

Some days I look through my folder

Flip through my books

Scroll through PDFs

And I just don't want to

Just don't feel like it

Just not in the mood

And suddenly I am terrified

Terrified

That I don't want to do it today

Terrified

That all this has been for nothing

All.

These.

Hours.

A lifetime, gone to waste

Terrified

That I only love it because he does

That I don't truly

Terrified

Because who am I without it?

And then

Some days

The days I love the most

I sit down and unpack

And I work until my fingers cramp and I have a red indent on the inside of my left index finger

Because they crave the keys

Crave the song

And it comes out almost perfectly -

Being a musician is full of almost perfections -

And I sit back

And I think

And I look it over

And I note all the details

The details kids who don't know 

Don't care

Overlook

The details that set me apart

I could play

Slumped over

Some days I do

Too tired to care about posture

But then I think

If you sit slumped and

Don't articulate and

Play just to get through the song

You are just like the others

What sets you apart?

If you aren't going to practice well

Practice your best

You are no different

And I work some more

At my best

Always at my best

"Work", but it is my joy

Some days

I am lost

And others

My heart sings

Because I know without a doubt

That this is me.