I Almost Did It

I almost let myself learn to play the cello. I almost let myself believe I could actually do it. I let myself get caught up in the whimsy, the daydream, the wanting. This time, I almost let myself believe I would do it. 

It called to me, soft at first, then louder. That low, aching hum felt like a mirror for all the things I never say out loud. I imagined the way the bow would feel in my hand, how the strings might tremble under the weight of my emotion. I could almost see myself, shoulders relaxed, lost in sound, learning something just for me.

But then the voice came in. It’s too expensive. It might take years to sound good and you don’t have patience for it. What makes you think you could just learn to play an instrument, you have no musical training, you can't read music, you're too old. What if you never get any good and you wasted all that money for nothing? Maybe this is selfish. I shouldn't waste the money, there are better, more responsible things we can use our money for. 

And just like that, I talked myself out of it.

I labeled the dream frivolous and irresponsible, as if joy and curiosity have to justify themselves with profit or perfection. As if being bad at something isn’t allowed when you’re an adult. As if creating for the sake of your soul is some kind of flaw.

This has been a theme in my life.

Every time something creative calls to me, be it music, writing, painting, I hear it. I feel it. And then I bury it under reasons that sound mature and responsible, but really just mask my fear. Fear of failure. Fear of wasting money. Fear that I don’t deserve something that’s just for me. The times I did let myself fall into something creative head first, I ended up turning into a way to make profit, as if it has to be profitable to make sense, to be worthy of my time, to justify it. And then I'd ruin it for myself, making myself feel obligated to be perfect, to do it the way others wanted it done. 

And maybe that fear is the part that stings the most. Because I almost did it. And I still want to.


I’ve always wanted to play the piano. For as long as I can remember, it felt like something magical, but also impossible. Would my hands even be able to handle all the keys? Where would I get a piano? How would I ever move it? I don't have that kind of space. So I let it stay tucked in the back of my mind, a quiet want I never really tried to reach for.

Recently, though, the cello started calling to me. I don’t even know where it came from. I am not a musician. I have zero musical training. There’s no logical reason. But it’s a feeling I can’t shake. The idea of expressing emotion through sound, letting it vibrate through wood and string, has haunted me in the best kind of way. And even though I always wanted to learn piano, this feels different. It doesn’t feel like a hobby. It feels like a calling. Like musical therapy for my soul. A somatic release.

I almost let myself do it. I researched. I checked prices, rentals, I opened tabs and let my heart flicker. But then the old voice kicked in... Maybe I should just learn piano, it’s what I always wanted. It might be easier to get a decent sound from faster. I know! Maybe I’ll get a keyboard that also has string instrument sounds built in. That’s more responsible. More logical. More affordable. After all, I'm not trying to becomes a professional musician, I just want the sound therapy. Then I could have both sounds. The piano and the cello. And just like that, I talked myself into compromise. I downplayed what I actually wanted. Tried to package my desire in something more “practical.” I had my credit card in hand. An electric piano picked out. A birthday coming up and a $200 discount whispering, see? this makes more sense.

But something stopped me. 

I let myself think on it overnight, exhausted from processing too much information and too many choices in a short period of time . And the more I pictured it, me at the keyboard versus me holding a cello, my heart sank a little. I had done it again. I told myself the piano was “smarter.” That maybe my daughter would use it too, so it wouldn’t be just for me. And all the reasons came flooding in about why the cello was too much. Too expensive. Too hard. Too risky. Unrealistic.

But here’s the truth: I still want to learn piano. Someday. But the piano isn’t what’s calling my heart right now. And the truth is, I don’t even have valid excuses anymore. For the first time in my life, I actually have a little extra money. But when you grow up with nothing extra, you learn to treat joy like a threat. You learn to silence your desires for fear of being wasteful. Frivolous. Unprepared for the next emergency.

Maybe it’s ancestral. Maybe it’s just my own trauma. maybe my brain just doesn't work the way it should. I don’t know. But I do know the fear has lived in me for as long as I can remember. And I keep saying, I’m going to let myself. Let myself have what I want. Become who I want to be. Learn the things that call to me. Express myself in the ways that feel right.

But time and time again, I wash it all away with excuses and watch my dreams float downstream like dirty memories.

Maybe 2026 is the year I stop burying the things that call to me, and let them breathe for once. I suppose only time will tell. 

---

I Almost Did It

I almost did it.
I almost said yes.
I almost let the dream out where it could breathe.
but then…

what if it’s too hard?
what if I waste the money?
what if I’m not good enough?
what if I embarrass myself…

so I tucked it back in.
wrapped it in bubble wrap excuses
and filed it under
“maybe someday.”
Maybe in the next life.

I've become a magician
at vanishing my own desires.
pulling practical reasons out of thin air
to explain why I never try.

It's not the right time.
the kids need things.
I need to be realistic.

But when I’m honest,
I mean brutally, painfully honest,
it’s not the world holding me back.
It's me.
it’s the voice that sounds like protection
but acts like a cage.
the one that tells me
comfort is safer than trying.

And I hate that I listen,
because deep down
I know I could do it.
maybe even beautifully.
maybe even better than I imagined.

But instead,
I almost did it.
and that’s what haunts me most.

Thanks for reading!

-Mello