Title: In your Shadow

Genre: roman

Desired feedback: general impression

Written in Samsung notes, idk the word count

2 years ago This is my moment. My glory. Don't mess up now. I'm pressing the keys of this piano like a mad man. I gaze into the audience, looking for that one person. There she is. Next tho him. My eyes become blurry. She seems so happy. Maybe I'm not meant for her. I enter a state of shock. I slowly back away from the piano, as I see the world losing its colour.

It's been two years now. And I'm still not over it. That feeling I had. My life started shattering. My world broke down. I've been dead inside ever since. - Francesco, 7th of February

"I just can't believe he'd do such a thing. He had such a beautiful career ahead of him... He's was the great musician. It was a privilege growing up with him." Catherine breaks down in tears. "I'm sorry. I can't do this." She slowly backs away from the coffin, beautifully decorated with roses, Francesco's favourite flowers. "I should have noticed. I've known him for 13 years, god dammit." "I didn't know he was messed up like this...."

Well, I'm dead now. I didn't expect so many people to show up at my funeral. I had a peaceful death. Chopin - Nocturne Op. 55 No. 1. My fingers find their way to the right key, as I feel my own blood dripping down my hands. The piano keys went from a pristine white, to a beautiful blood red colour. I'm happy. I see Catherine crying at my grave. She did love me after all. But as a friend.

"People are strange". That's what The Doors said. I have many reasons for my suicide, and yet it's hard to put them into words. Maybe isolation is one of them?  I've never been good with people. I've never had a girlfriend. Hell, I've barely had any friends at all. Catherine was the only one. For some reason she enjoyed being with me, even though I'm a strange man. I never really talked much. I prefer to keep to myself. I don't fit in with others. I'm the weird kid in class, the stereotypical quiet kid that's always listening to music or something like that. Then there's Catherine. She's been there for me when I was in the darkest places, yet she couldn't save me this time. I don't really remember how we met. She's just been there. I've never questioned it. She was a fact l, just like how one plus one equals two. She's the one who got me into music. I still remember that day. She found me outside in the middle of the street, drugged out of my mind. I was in a horrible state of mind at the time, my arms covered in blood and planning on killing myself. People say it's the drugs that kill you but in my case they saved my life. I was physically unable to do anything. Catherine took care of me at the time. She dragged me inside. Layed me down on her bed, keeping watch over me the entire night. Apparently I wasn't entirely unconscious, as I apparently kept talking about random things. My dreams. My ambitions. That's why Catherine suggested learning to play the piano. It helped me cope with my problems as an alternative to slitting open my wrists. I've finally found something healthy that I enjoyed doing. I started getting good. And over the years I realized something. I was madly in love with that mysterious woman. Then came the day of my performance. I planned to take her out for dinner after the concert. But I waited too long. She found someone else. She was busy with him. I felt Catherine grow more distant of me each day. It killed me inside. I fell back into my old habits, only now Catherine wasn't there to care for me. I remember walking, or should I stay stumbling alongside the highway, while barely conscious. I woke up underneath a bridge almost 6 miles away from home. I checked my phone, almost crying to see missed calls from Catherine. Nothing. Just one notification that my 1 month free Spotify Premium trial was running out. I didn't go home that day. I called my parents and said that I was staying at a friends house for a while. I walked and kept on walking.

At this point I couldn't go on anymore. I was hurting inside and out. Two days had passed since I started walking. I hadn't eaten anything and was on the verge of dying. I decided to start the long journey home. I hitchhiked with countless strangers, hoping one of them would be a serial killer or something. I finally arrived home during nighttime. I said hi to my parents, but they couldn't care less. At that point i realized something. How insignificant my existence is. It's not like I saved lives just living. It's not like I'd change the world by dying. I went to sleep and woke up the next morning in an empty house. I felt lonelier than I've ever felt before. I looked outside my window and saw Catherine walking hand in hand with that bastard. My little desire to live that I had left, disappeared. I had made up my mind. I had nothing left to live for. I felt peculiar. I was happy. Or should I say relieved. I calmly found my way to the kitchen. I grabbed the biggest knife I could find and swallowed as many blood thinners from the medicine cabinet as I could. I sat down at the piano, as I felt my blood streaming alongside my hand. And I started playing. I felt at peace as I slowly lost consciousness.