black and white, keys and keys

I'm so very far away from my piano; I'm starting to feel the effects. My thoughts are jumbled and half formed, the beast inside is beginning to growl every time I try to approach the tempest in my mind. The calm is leaving me, the misunderstandings seem to be piling up in front of me. I feel so powerless against the waves of time; after all, what could I do?
I've been left alone in his apartment; he's off to some staff retreat thing at the inn, and I'm all by my lonesome for the afternoon. I find myself lost among his possessions, an intruder, so out of place. I feel so very at home here when in his company, but he leaves and I feel... disjointed. I know I'm not invading, and it's not that I feel unwelcome, but it exacerbates the feeling that he's misunderstood me at some great basic level and I'm not the girl he thinks I am. I don't even know what I am. How could he love this? I can't even get my own name right half the time, I can't eat for days, there are some nights that I want to haunt the streets like some shadowy creature, snarling at the unknown and cringing at those who claim to love me. After he left it took all my strength not to pack my things and write him a letter, asking him not to call or inquire after me. I so desperately want to know exactly who he is, what he is, I found myself tempted to go through everything I saw around me: papers, books, browser history, digital camera. I want to know if he could know everything there is to know of me and still find a way to love me. The cynic in me is skeptical and unimpressed. The romantic in me is trying not to cry. I'm caught somewhere between them, unsure what to make of everything, afraid to trust a hope and convinced of the worst.
I just want more, and I grow desperate when overlooked.
I don't want another Edward, and I cower to think of where this could go. The feelings of insignificance creep back beneath my skin, the aching need has returned, no matter how physically close I get I am dissatisfied. I am capable of burning, but I am so afraid of overwhelming my complementary party that I find myself in a state of smolder that I cannot seem to break. I'm sure he loves me, he says so (insert laugh here), but being in love is a different matter entirely. Disjointed.
I miss my black and white keys. The cathartic pounding of noise, the intuitive calculations made in fractions of seconds, the challenge of time signatures.
I don't see where we could put my piano in here.
I'm hoping it's not a sign.
I feel the judgements of God more heavily today than I have in quite some time.