pianos and sherlock: a rant-type post

This week was one filled with the wonderful trill of Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2, an unveiling of some unfortunate things, and the discovery of the first season of Sherlock on Netflix.

Yes, I have indulged myself in the world of Sherlock, much to the noticeable distaste of my father. [insert multiple facedesks here] My new OTP - well, I haven't really had one before, but never mind that - is John and Sherlock. Or Johnlock. Whatever.
Anyway, I've made my way through season one and have watched the first episode of the second season. Wish me luck finding the other episodes online, because bloody Netflix-Canada doesn't have them...

Well, I was talking to my brother earlier today. He went to the doctor's office a few days ago, wasn't feeling well as he told me. He got some pills - I assumed they were for his "cold". I grew suspicious, though; the capsules were large and white and in a prescription bottle, like the ones that fill medicine cabinets in the movies. He placed them on the kitchen countertop. Once he left the room, I picked them up quick and read the label: venlafaxine. I ran to my room and looked it up on wikipedia.

So it be told, my brother was on anti-depressants.

It seemed like everything, the weight of the world, was falling on me at once.
My own brother? How could I not have known?
I've been living with him my whole life! I had no clue, at all. He was always so happy and smiling whenever I saw him.
Or was he?
And then I remembered.
Those nights where his eyes were rimmed red. When he played piano a little too long. The way he'd avoid looking at you some mornings.
It was all there.
I had just chosen to ignore it and let it pass by.

It was then when I started to cry. I decide to walk over to the piano room.

I am so unbelievably lucky to have learned how to play the piano. Where on earth would I be?
It's the only thing that ever made sense when everything else hadn't.
When I play the piano, I don't feel incompetent like I usually do. I feel important and worthwhile.
So I played, and played, and played the day away...

the end. 

Sorry if this seemed cheesy or poorly written. It's 11:41PM, I'm filled with feels, I don't know how I feel about this, and I just needed to tell someone. Or, the whole world as the blog is public. o.e

the ocean: a weird poem

I reside at the depths of it's blue;

I am heavier than a thousand white elephants, 

I am lighter than a sad thought, 

I am bare, assailable; withdrawn,

I am irresolute, yet unyielding, 

I am, I am… 

Selfish, was I,  for disdaining you.

Stubborn, was I, to yearn, to believe, 
that as the moon waned,

those words would swallow me, 

engulf me,

like the sea. 

Hello, reader. How are you? 
I hope you enjoyed my ruddy poem. I'm pretty bad at writing those, to be honest. It's really a skill that I have not fully acquired or practised yet... Hey, I'm only human.

After much prompting from my best friend Jordan, I finally got around to making a blog. Please don't judge my writing, aha. 

Well, see you soon.