La Barcarolle

When you crossed my mind, you suddenly appeared. And at the same time, there are more and more chance for us to meet. In reality. In my own imagery. In my dreams. I wonder why, mate. I wonder why. And every single time I inspect see through your eyes, what I remember is my dream about you in the afternoon. The warmth. The silent whispers I heard. This is weird. And in reality, all perished because of several things you do. Ah, I don't know who is actually a weirdo now. And it is almost impossible for me to have such oh-so-sweet feelings to you................. don't ask me why. Do not.

Alas, technically, you have no such feelings. Indeed. Yah, sort of friendzoned already, like usual. Doesn't matter, there are still plenty of time and let's see whether this would work or not. As your closest mate said that I should let it flow, I will. What I can just do now is cherishing the very last time. You have your own path, and I will go overseas...and keep these little but crazy secrets from you until you do something like... Hmmmm. You know it, right? You owe me one thing, mate... *wink*

And yes, this simple statement from your best friend is still, wandering around inside my brain.

"You might really have a crush on him... but just let it flow anyway!"

Pardon? IMPOSSIBRU! 

Anyway.

I always love Tchaikovsky's Barcarolle.

So?

Even I can just play the first movement -- which caused by the lack of knowledge I have about piano scores, ugh. And guess what, I can't press several notes because of this little hands, completed with my small, short fingers.... oh my. This is embarrassing. I have studied piano for 4 years and yes I've retired from my 30-minute-each-week course since... 4 years ago. Tough work to do, since I hate reading highly-pitched notes. Meh. Black keys. How I hate flats and sharps...

These days, with such tasks, daily tests, homework to do, exams, games, I almost forget them. You are the one who make me remember. Basically, my own Barcarolle is played in dolcissimo; very sweet, and sometimes con dolore, when I'm sad. But when it comes to you, it becomes cantabile. In a singing style. Pardon me for using those Latin terms. I just love reading them. Sounds beautiful, somehow. Ehe. 

Here are my nocturnes, dear. If you love it, just...

Just........

Forget it, hahahahahaha.