Put your hands on the keys, the black ones and the whites. Black has always reminded me of the gloomy tones. I generally couldn’t carry my fingers, they were too slow to play lively, enthusiastic pieces. Trying so hard to catch the rhythm has never been easy for me during those times. My piano teacher may have even thought that I was incompetent. And life was the same. I tried and tried and tried and tried to do my best as much as I could. When they asked me about my biggest fear, it was to disappoint my parents, which I have, instead, said heights. I don’t really know where this idea of “becoming a legend” came from. I didn’t even know what a “legend” was. It has never been about being famous or earning tons of money. It was just about making my parents proud and satisfying them. I never knew how to do it, but always tried really hard to do my best. So I put my hands on the keys and it was difficult to move my fingers, with the burden of fear. The fear of disappointment. The fear of being useless. The fear of not overcoming what I have been through and being unable to cope with every single impediment. But I did my best and practised really hard to play those complex pieces. There were the black keys, flat and sharps, but I played the pieces that have even 6 from those obstacles. And I also caught the rhythm. Not only the rhythm of the music but also the rhythm of life. It was tough at first, but then I got used to it. It was essential to be a legend and make everyone knowing me proud. But there was something wrong about me being a legend. I was totally wrong about that legend trivia. Cause I realized that I have never cared about making my own self proud. I have never mattered to ME, which was a supermassive black hole.  Put my hands on the keys and started playing something calmer, far away from any rush and stress. And let myself get carried away by the melody of peace, white and most importantly me.