Dear Piano,

I hate you. Our relationship has such dichotomy with your structure - black and white, sharp and flat, crescendo, diminuendo, love and passion and intensity.

Maybe it's because we're too alike. Here you are, alive, joy and sorrow in ivory. You're too real, too much for me to tame, and it is this that frustrates me the most. It's you who sees the best in me - I always thought I looked best in the blurry reflection of the glossy keys. But more importantly, you see the worst in me. You bring out both in harmony and dissonance, constantly reminding me of who I am.

I hate you because you force me to see reality. How could I be deluded with you who knows me so well? All the hours and the tears means complete honesty because you accept nothing less. Sincerity isn't enough for you. You demand rage, the pounding of fists, slow drip of tears. You make me vulnerable, and I hate it. I hate you.

But I love you, too. You've taught me discipline, love, passion. You've given me something so beautiful, pure and twisted. When I'm with you, I can fly. I can fall. Nothing can hurt me but myself. Through you, I found myself. I'm not the best when I'm with you, I'm just me. But you don't care. Night and day, black and white, love and hate. You've taught me who I am and who I want to be. Thank you.