The final draft

My finger slid along the edge of the key, creasing my pointer temporarily. Harder I squeezed as I read the words on the page, taking in air shortly. Twisting with dread, my gut felt like it was being kicked with every word that dripped with resentment. Unable to handle any more, I wiped tears from my eyes and neatly folded the letter. Eyes lingering on the letters gathered to make words that acted as daggers, my mind floated back to the question that everyone had asked of me.
Guitar chords blaring, music split the air, breaking any peace that could be attained in a concert auditorium. Last minute preparations, a nagging responsibility, had to be made. As a manager, I was to bring passion to the music as rain brings moisture to the dry ground, and take care of those who ushered the music into the world, regardless of the neglect I showed for myself. My feelings and mood could not dictate my performance. It could not lack no matter how weary I was. Having completed my tasks, I took a seat on the concrete steps backstage. Security began to allow attendees into the convention center. The lights dimmed, but the florescent spotlights lingered, illuminating only a small section of the crowd. Eyes gazing out over the arena, darkness seemed to pull everything under a black sheet, never to release them. Blackness gripped me tightly, holding my attention, unwavering and devoted. A sudden change in decibels broke my train of thought and caused the black monster to withdraw.
What is wrong with me? The bright colors of the concert shirts, the screaming of the crowd, loud and prone-to-moshing, but mostly the thrill of traveling city-to-city no longer excited me. It had only been 20 days. Twenty days since my family had slightly loosened their grip, and let me slide through their hand like grains of sand. I had been granted permission to do what I wanted. However, this feeling of isolation wasn’t what I desired.
The last remaining body in the convention center, I stood frozen for a moment. Now fully illuminated yet vacant, the auditorium was barren. The silence overtook me. The emptiness swallowed me, and the tears were finding a way to their newly found home. My chest fluctuated as sobs echoed throughout the hall. Hands clutching at my knees to remain stable, I was unwilling to pitifully fall to the ground. The letter descended with my forward movement, floating to the ground. Staring at the envelope with remorse, their words made clear that I was neglecting everything I held dear. I had done wrong to everyone, including myself. I had left them for 36 days without a thought. It was only right that they be discontented. The nice cursive letters looked all too sweet on the front of the envelope, but they held feelings of bitter resentment. The daggers stabbed at my heart once again. I turned down the lights, but the question they asked of me remained. “Where were you when I was alone…”