Repressure: A Symphony of Ridiculous Metaphors about Concert Halls.

I'm angry. I don't know how not to be (nor should I be un-angry--I'm fully right in my anger), and I don't know how to express it. I feel like I can't.

This is not the first time I've sacrificed my own feelings for the sake of someone else's, and it won't be the last. But it really, really sucks.

Maybe I'm being too hard on the subject of my anger. But I don't think I am. I think I'm ONE of their pity-parties away from yelling and yelling and not stopping until I've reached some core piece and snapped it back into place. Whether that core piece is in me as well as in them is still out with the jury.

I want to be everything I know I am/have been--understanding, helpful, a good listener, a problem solver, an advisor, a comfort. But, well, imagine this.

Imagine a concert pianist, who is staring at a piano. You know they can play it--they played it for years, but one day they stopped, and they claimed they didn't know how anymore. You know they know how, but they ask you for your help instead. You don;t know much about their piano, but in an attempt to jog their memory, you try to teach them the scales. But instead of watching and listening, they plug their ears and hum their own tune instead. Then when you ask them to play it for themselves, they start snapping the strings under the piano's hood, almost irretrievably damaging it's ability to be played. Then they turn to you and ask for help again, but again refuse to take it. Over and over.

Okay, that was a complicated metaphor, but maybe you've gleaned something of what I mean. The point is, it's impossible to help someone who refuses to be helped. It seems simple, but once you put in the mechanics of chemicals and feelings and obligation and abandonment, it's an almost impossible puzzle.

Maybe it's not about the piano, but about that new conductor they're thinking about hiring. The conductor is a good one, and they'll definitely be good at their job, but they still refuse to make a decision about hiring them, and instead of just choosing, they call you, someone ignorant in concert hall matters, to interview the conductor and consult with the pianist. You offer your best guidance, but the pianist deliberates for so long that the conductor gets frustrated and withdraws to take an offer elsewhere. And so the pianist takes pity on the poor orchestra that was deprived of such a grand conductor by such a dreadful pianist, and instead of being proactive and giring another conductor, decides instead to allow the orchestra to fall into discord and slink off to wallow.

Well, this second fiddle isn't about to allow that.

Sheeze. I'm not sure whether to delete this metaphor or be proud of myself for being introspective for once in a long while.