My Life in Screenplay Format

I stayed at a fancy hotel, and she could barely make time for me, as I had barged in on her life (”surprise!”). We had sex. I was so heartbroken to leave the city. It hurt to not have a reason to live in a beautiful place, to not have been adequate enough to go to a fancy school out of state, to learn about how to pursue my dreams of being an artist. What was my future going to look like? There was none.

We broke up. I submitted some “raw” (terrible) poetry to a literary magazine, in which I unloaded my horrible pain and sense of inadequacy that I couldn’t keep up with my high school girlfriend.

Even though I left Texas years ago, I still carry around the key to my piano teacher’s house.

After I had been studying with her for some time, a close friendship had blossomed between us. I had been practicing every day for 8-12 hours, and she knew my piano at home was pretty shitty. One day, she handed me the key and said, “You can come here and practice on my piano, even when I’m not here.”

I had never felt special before. I had never soared to any great academic heights, never been a part of any exclusive club. I had never been treated as a standout by any teacher or authority figure. In fact, in high school, the theatre department refused to let me participate in any capacity because my grades were terrible.

And suddenly, my piano teacher – who I revered, who was so musically accomplished – had given me the keys to the kingdom. Not only to her house, but to the stratosphere where self-believers reside.