As it touches the ridges of my skin, the ivory that lies beneath my fingers gives off the sounds of happiness, anger, sadness, and much more. 

I play many notes—none too high and none too low—but they all fit just right to the sound of my voice. The key to success isn’t within my education, but instead within the tunes I play. 

When I should be pondering about math problems, I am instead spending my time locked up in a world full of lyrics—letting my words fly in every direction except for down. It carries me through the moments that are ugly and full of fear; it’s my life’s guide. When I’m questioning the choices or decisions I’ve made, I’ll find my answers through a series of improvised pieces—most of them ending up in my hands with only one click to post them on Instagram.

Home is not a place for me, but instead it is the dark, clean, and crisp-sounding instrument that sits less than a foot away from my bed; my piano sings to me. It calms me down as if its melody is a lullaby. 

The moment I first spotted a set of keys as a little girl, I was drawn to them—enthralled by them. Now, I sit in silence and let my hands do the work, dragging my pencil across the page. Sometimes I stop to think about what is being left behind on my paper. It’s not poetry that’s spit out at the end; it’s something more. It’s the thoughts of a singer-songwriter—views I wish could be heard more. 

Every phrase, word, sound, and beat is precisely placed to carry the right tone. I make sure my rhythms fill others with comfort—in the same way that I feel the comfort from my home. 

Most nights, I stay awake thinking of all the phrases I could have sung. That’s when it hits me—a new beat. I envision what the world has come to be and trace it out in notes that speak to me. 

Scribbled-out songs of my own like, “Normalcy,” “Closed Eyes,” and “The Other Side” are all designed by perspectives that are deemed important to me. “The Other side” was written while I was contemplating why social justice has to be fought for—in terms of race and equality. 

When I’m facing hardships with friendships and can’t wrap my head around losing people, I let my emotions flow through the verses of “Normalcy.” 

Even the darkest moments of my life, questioning possibilities of where I’m from and where I fit in, turn into something vulnerable, and open moments that are spoken from my heart get spun into lyrics in “Closed Eyes.” 

I’ve always had a problem with keeping my emotions in when things boil over. The keys take it all in as if my true thoughts and feelings get absorbed into the endless sounds. 

No one ever said home is a building, place, or person that makes you feel everything. Home can be an object, thought, or even a song.

In my eyes, it’s something that tells me where I belong.