I’m not usually very direct in any form of writing, but this time, I’ll try my best to be direct.

I’m not just a writer, actually writing was not my first artistic pursuit, that would be music.

My love and passion for the piano, Debussy, Bach, and improvising themes got me through the best conservatories in Brazil (yes, Brazilian, hence weird English, I welcome corrections and critics) and eventually in the best music University we have around here, Unicamp.

Unicamp is located in the city of Campinas, two hours away from my hometown, Casa Branca–not to be mixed with Casa Blanca from Marrocos–which implied one very obvious thing: I’d have to move from out my house, where there is a room for the piano where I could practice, to somewhere in Campinas.

Now, we’re not rich, actually, as I write this, I can say I’m a thousand bucks in debt and my mother is… actually let’s not get into this. This all took place in 2015, so I moved to a place within our means, which was what we call in Brazil a “república”, which I GUESS, I REPEAT, I GUESS, is somewhat similar to a frat house, in the sense of “we’re students and live together”, but the house is a actually a lot smaller and I shared a room with the dirtiest person I may have ever encountered in the entirety of my life

Yet, none of that was the problem.

I wish they were, though, because if that was the case, I’d have managed to fix it, and I’d be in my third year in University by now.

Yeah, that would be great, but what happened was: every time I hit a note on the piano, I become aware of all the people who were listening to me, and of how many of them I might be potentially annoying, regardless of me playing during the day: and this awareness, it halted from practicing, the feeling that I might be annoying, even after having their explicit permission to practice (after all, we talked it over before I moved in), became the bane of my life.

Now is probably the time when you’re reading and rolling your eyes saying “big deal, you shouldn’t be that whiny and just do it.”

To which I’d respond by grabbing your dense ass head by its hair and yanking it close my mouth so you could hear my every word saying “IT’S NOT THAT SIMPLE YOU FERMENTED PIECE OF SH!T”

People who diss these sorts of problems are no better than people who diss on people who have depression or anxiety attacks, if you seriously think a person would choose to have the problems they have, I really hope that God touches your heart tonight, killing in the process.

My being not able to bring myself to play, or to practice singing (Music University, you need to AT THE VERY LEAST be able to sing in tune, and I’m a tenor, so my voice is not only high-pitched, but loud as well), would give me attacks of depression.

Many were the nights when I curled myself in blankets in my bed and cried, cried all of my frustration out. Many, MANY days in a roll I wanted to die because I wasn’t being able to study, to master my own craft, because I was being left behind compared to the other students and failing half of my tests (the half that demanded instrumental skills).

In less than six months, I dropped out Unicamp, because I couldn’t bring myself to practice under the threat of annoying people, I dropped the best University of Music we have in Brazil, apart perhaps only from the University of São Paulo itself.

I would like to say that now, three years later, I no longer have that sort of problem, but that is a lie: I still can’t bring myself to practice if I’m in a flat, to raise a voice to sing the notes from an anthem is a martyrdom act, it feels like I’m being whipped in the face every time anything higher than a C5 gets out of my mouth… and I just…

I really don’t know what to do anymore, I’m 25 now, I still want to pursue this career, but when I’m faced with this… with how my brain puts everybody’s needs before my own, and with my incapacity of rewiring it to a more selfish yet useful pattern, it honestly drives me suicidal at times, because I know I could be so far now, if I didn’t have these problems that I don’t even know what are to begin with…

I wish there was a closure to this post, but honestly, it was a rant, and a cry for help… if you know how, please help.

And if your help is “give up and get an actual job”, first, I have a job, second, every form of earning money is honorable, third, just spare me.