Five minutes ago I found myself wishing I could cry. I was unable to. So I sat down and tried to relax. It's all over now. I am crying. And not slightly, either. I have tears streaming down my face steadily, as I sit here in silence.

I am stuck without a pianist for my practical music pre-exam. It shouldn't be such a problem as there are enough pianists in the world, but I am picky. And I was extremely happy with the one who had enthusiastically agreed on playing together again when I asked him over the phone. It is he, the one for whom I still cherish a mutual affection. The one who helped me gain my petty sexual trauma. The one who is a life-player, a charmer, the one who could never fool me with his acts. The one who has disappointed me so often � the one who has by now disappointed me one too many times.

I understand his reasoning and I respect his decision, but I bluntly disapprove of the distant manner in which he let me know of them, and his self-centred stream of consciousness that led him to refuse after having made me believe in his devotion. He does not understand that I do not seek a professionally performed duet. All I ask is an amateur accompaniment, and it does not have to be musically correct. Though I understand that is difficult for him to accept, as he once was a professional. But he could give in and do something for me. It's not like I've never done anything for him, it's not like I've ever before asked him to do anything for me.

But the worst thing is, he e-mailed me to let me know that he's no longer willing to play. "No way." That was his first line. How could he be so impersonal? How could he hold a lettered monologue on a personal matter, and then end with "'later, M."? I might have accepted it, but not now, not now he'd promised over the phone to ring me back on the matter the same night. Not after I'd said I did not believe that he would do that, as he never does what he says he will. Not after him assuring me that this time it would be true. Not after him letting me know through my father that he was intending to indeed phone, that he was constantly bearing it in mind.

He didn't phone, and the e-mail was sent the morning after. It hurts me. (Why?)

It's too late now. There is no chance of him changing his mind (again), there is no chance of me persuading him into anything: after a ten minute contemplation I sent the reply I had typed immediately, without thinking.

"You made me cry. You won't hear from me again. Bye"

It may be harsh, it may be bastardise, but I am really fucking upset.

And I meant what I wrote in my e-mail. I am not going to contact him again. I am not going to show any kind of initiative again. It has always been me, and now it's going to stop. What I got from him (and will get again, the next time we coincidentally appear at the same cursed place at the same bewitched time, as if nothing ever happened) were empty promises, flirtatious winks and smiles, occasional genuinely affectionate hugs and endeared laughs. The things I received from him were only ever real whenever I had taken pains to organise something.

Is this choosing for the loss of a friend? Is this blocking out an affection?
I'll have to accept all consequences.

But then when I put aside my grief and get over the humanly emotions, I am still left without a pianist. I need one willing to perform in two (!) weeks. I need one good enough. I need one I agree with on personal grounds, i.e. not the school music teacher who hammers the piano to bits with her well-formed technique, but is altogether unable to bring any passion into her playing, and not my ex-GP who has been wanting to play with me every since he knew me (he gives me the creeps). They are the only two available to me, apart from my ex-piano teacher, but she has recently given birth to her fourth child.

I refuse to let anybody play with me if I don't feel comfortable around them. My music is too near to me. I shall not be able to let them in without negative effects, so I won't.

But then what is left to do?
I despise this stressful situation. And more so because it is such a ridiculous problem.

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I feel so