Step One: Building the Keys

~Piano keys as the rest of the piano are obviously made of wood. as simple as that seems the process is very complicated. you must select a tree, strip the bark, cut the wood, carve the wood and sand the wood, shape the wood and stain the wood.~
I am a piano. Little pieces of who I am are my keys. the reason for my existance. the process to building my keys, was not your typical key building. my process was tough.

When I was born, My mother was sixteen, I wasn't planned for.. This changed her life instantly, she had to make some very serious adult decisions which resulted in my being adopted.
The home I was placed in seemed a very wonderfull place when I was a child, mainly because my dad was my best friend. we did everything together. from mowing the lawn at the tri-plex, to buying picachu popsicles, visiting the dump, going on trips... everything that a little child should have the opportunity to experience. I was truly happy. as it takes one little glitch to ruin the process of building a key, my childhood was destroyed in one phone call. They called to tell my mother that my father had Stomach Cancer. The little 'tummy aches' turned out to be alot more than just 'tummy aches' The second I found out I knew my life would change. I ran outside, I was sad, and Angry, I climbed the sumack tree in our front yard that my Dad and I always called 'dad and sharon's tree' It wasn't long before I heard the roaring of my dad's truck coming down the drive. I jumped out and ran to him as he got out. I should have waited for my mom to tell him, but I couldn't because I was confused and hurting. I told him. he told me to be big.. so I tried.
about 9 months later, after countless surgeries and weeks in the hospital, having his stomach removed and living off of a machine he died in our home on April 11th, 2005.. I remember every detail from that night, some that are far to graphic to describe. to painfull to relive the agony of my 10 year old mind..I didn't cry. not for a long time. people were mad at me for not crying, but I just couldn't. it was too unreal. I wanted to leave the funeral to go home and wait for daddy's truck to pull in. But a piece of me knew he never would again.

A couple months later my mother got really sick. she grew up with Lupus so it wasn't that big of a deal, untill she had a couple of strokes and started coughing up blood on a regular basis. she was admitted to the hospital several times and eventually they told her she had an unusual disease called Anti-phospholipid Syndrome. She had to get an open heart surgery and became really sick, I was 11 years old and had to help my brother be in charge. He practically raised me. he was only 14. He is one of the strongest people I know.
My mom's disease caused her to have mood swings similar to bipolor disorder. I grew up being the 'rebel child' the one that was just in the way and the cause to all of her problems. on many occasions she told me that she didn't love me and that I should just live somewhere else.

I lived this way all through out junior high and the first two years of highschool, things began going down hil from there.Freshman year I had some very serious depression and became suicidal, These feelings caused me to make some mistakes that will always haunt me. the shelter of time has only numbed those feelings. I went to counseling, my counseler told me that I was a very bad child and that I had no hope. It was on my own that I found this hope, this one single light in a world of darkness, Music. I let it fill my life, I wrote music, played music, sang music, danced music, listend to music, I was music. my soul was a stereo.

When I turned 16 I knew who I was, I knew who I wanted to be, And things turned up, I became a happy, healthy, hopefilled person.
This light became temporarily burried upon the arrival of the news that My best friend, the first person I had ever fallen In love with, the one person I told everything to, had passed away, he had had bone cancer and had his arm amputated, but the cancer had spread and eventually he died. I found out the night before his Funeral. A friend had sent me his Obituary Through Facebook. I was devastated, I fell to the ground crying, then I found myself in Denial. I refused to believe it, to see for myself I went to the funeral. that was the saddest funeral I had ever attended. I was terrified. I was completely alone. I was in the process of transferring high schools to help get myself out of the bad atmosphere of my old high school, and had no friends. I was scared to start in the first place, and now a piece of me didnt want to make new friends for the fear of loosing them like I had lost Geoff.

Eventually I realized that If i was strong enough to get through all I had, I was strong enough to get through this trail. and I was

The trials I experienced sanded me down to who I am..  The things I learned from these experiences . Though they may be worn by time.  Will always be a part of me.. The stain on the keys of my figurative life piano.

Piano keys.

~Piano keys as the rest of the piano are obviously made of wood.
as simple as that seems the process is very complicated. you must select a tree, strip the bark, cut the wood, carve the wood and sand the wood, shape the wood and stain the wood.~

I am a piano. Little pieces of who I am are my keys. the reason for my existance. the process to building my keys, was not your typical key building. my process was tough.

When I was born, My mother was sixteen, I wasn't planned for.. This changed her life instantly, she had to make some very serious adult decisions which resulted in my being adopted.
The home I was placed in seemed a very wonderfull place when I was a child, mainly because my dad was my best friend. we did everything together. from mowing the lawn at the tri-plex, to buying picachu popsicles, visiting the dump, going on trips... everything that a little child should have the opportunity to experience. I was truly happy. as it takes one little glitch to ruin the process of building a key, my childhood was destroyed in one phone call. They called to tell my mother that my father had Stomach Cancer. The little 'tummy aches' turned out to be alot more than just 'tummy aches' The second I found out I knew my life would change. I ran outside, I was sad, and Angry, I climbed the sumack tree in our front yard that my Dad and I always called 'dad and sharon's tree' It wasn't long before I heard the roaring of my dad's truck coming down the drive. I jumped out and ran to him as he got out. I should have waited for my mom to tell him, but I couldn't because I was confused and hurting. I told him. he told me to be big.. so I tried.
about 9 months later, after countless surgeries and weeks in the hospital, having his stomach removed and living off of a machine he died in our home on April 11th, 2005.. I remember every detail from that night, some that are far to graphic to describe. to painfull to relive the agony of my 10 year old mind..I didn't cry. not for a long time. people were mad at me for not crying, but I just couldn't. it was too unreal. I wanted to leave the funeral to go home and wait for daddy's truck to pull in. But a piece of me knew he never would again.

A couple months later my mother got really sick. she grew up with Lupus so it wasn't that big of a deal, untill she had a couple of strokes and started coughing up blood on a regular basis. she was admitted to the hospital several times and eventually they told her she had an unusual disease called Anti-phospholipid Syndrome. She had to get an open heart surgery and became really sick, I was 11 years old and had to help my brother be in charge. He practically raised me. he was only 14. He is one of the strongest people I know.
My mom's disease caused her to have mood swings similar to bipolor disorder. I grew up being the 'rebel child' the one that was just in the way and the cause to all of her problems. on many occasions she told me that she didn't love me and that I should just live somewhere else.

I lived this way all through out junior high and the first two years of highschool, things began going down hil from there.Freshman year I had some very serious depression and became suicidal, These feelings caused me to make some mistakes that will always haunt me. the shelter of time has only numbed those feelings. I felt hopeless. If was on my own that I found this hope, this one single light in a world of darkness, Music. I let it fill my life, I wrote music, played music, sang music, danced music, listend to music, I was music. my soul was a stereo.

When I turned 16 I knew who I was, I knew who I wanted to be, And things turned up, I became a happy, healthy, hopefilled person.
This light became temporarily burried upon the arrival of the news that My best friend, the first person I had ever fallen In love with, the one person I told everything to, had passed away, he had had bone cancer and had his arm amputated, but the cancer had spread and eventually he died. I found out the night before his Funeral. A friend had sent me his Obituary Through Facebook. I was devastated, I fell to the ground crying, then I found myself in Denial. I refused to believe it, to see for myself I went to the funeral. that was the saddest funeral I had ever attended. 
The events in my life have shaped or sanded me down to who I am today. The things I learned have stuck with me.  They may be worn away by time but a little piece of it will always remain.. The stain. 
I am like the keys on a piano.

Introduction:

A piano has 88 keys. 52 white keys, and 36 black keys. these 88 keys each have their own individual sound, without which;a piano would have nothing. no original sound. There is a long process to build a piano. in the end of this process the proud piano maker places the piano in the store best suited for it's style, shape,color, size, and Sound.

In a sense, life is like a piano factory.
Each step in the process of life shapes us into who we are. we each have our own shape, color, size, and sound.

to some, the piano maker is a higher power who sees what we cannot.
to others, the piano maker is ourselves.

Often, When a piano is built, it becomes neglected. thrown aside if you will. Sometimes, it is restored, or 'born again' other times, it is destroyed. Just as we are neglected. some may restore themselves, or with the help of others become 'reborn'.
other times, we let it destroy us.

In my piano factory, the process of being built has been rough, along with wonderful. good times and bad, but it has made me into who I am. it has given me my own voice. my own sound.

I am a piano. and My voice is that of my own Soul.