For over a year now, I have begged my parents to let me audie for DCI. Last year they told me no because I would be a 16 year old traveling the country. Now, at 17, I have begged more than ever. So I call my dad, whos working two states away, and ask him about it. His response: “well, seeing as we signed you up and paid for everything, I guess you can go.” I LOVE MY PARENTS
As I go about my daily life, I can’t help but wonder what life would be like if we were still together. Because I see these couples going on nine months this month, just as we would have been. We could have been part of that croud; the croud that is still together.
But every day, I find myself thinking of you and replaying old memories until I cry in the middle of a class. I wonder what you’re doing in college, off on your own. I’m curious about you because you were a new world waiting to be explored, but this adventurer left a little too early.
So tell me, do you ever wonder the same? Do you think about me as much as I do you? Do you ever wonder what class I might be in, or how my band is going? Maybe you do wonder, or maybe you just couldn’t care less. But maybe I still wonder about you. Just maybe.
This time last year, the most stress I had was about learning my marching music. I didn’t think about boys or money. I thought about music. Not once did I think that I could major in it, but music was everything to me. It made me smile, it made me cry. Hell, it gave me some of my very best friends.
This time last year, I was so open with myself. I like to think I was sweet, and I had a lot of friends. But to my demise, I’m friends with barley any of them I am friends with today. But friends come and go.
This time last year, school was rough. I was bullied and I had homework every night, but a few of my classes and teachers made everything worth while. It was okay to go to school if it meant I could be brought up, even if it was for only a few minutes.
This time last year, I didn’t think about college or majors or how much money in scholarships I could get. I didn’t think about the ups and downs of being close and far away from home. I had no thought of auditioning for a college in theatre or music, nor did I even think I would ever play sports in college.
This time last year, I made myself happy by doing what I loved. I would play my trumpet whenever i wanted. I had the time and effort to up and read a good book. I could find new music to play; I could watch a movie over and over and over again.
But right now, a year after last year, I’m under the most stress I’ve ever been. No longer am I happy with what high school gives me. No longer do I blow off looking at schools to further my education. No longer may I sleep in every morning and walk to school in the cold air of the day. Because now I’m expected to come early and stay late. I’m expected to lead what I’ve only followed. I am expected to excel in every advancement of my academics and extra curricular. No longer may I stress about one small thing out of place, for a small thing seems microscopic to the larger things of the senior year. I start to stay up late and wake up early; I come home only to leave again minutes later; I practice to the point of hatred toward my own instrument.
No, no longer may I stress over the simplest of things. My stress now lies on the future at hand; a future I will know nothing about until it may meet me as we pass.
But a year from now, maybe the stress will have lessened. Maybe I will be surrounded by people who do what they love and people who know what they want: people with goals and ambitions. I want to be around people who push me up, not pull me down. Be part of a group who succeeds, not fails. Have a second have to care about whilst they care about me.
But maybe it’s all too much to ask for in just a years time. But every year, I will look back and think it was the easiest time of my 17 years of life. No, this is not the life I expected to live a year ago, but this will be the life I had lived next year.
because both of these are damn near impossible to do. What I feel… I don’t know. I can feel a build up of jealousy in my stomach as I see my friends doing what they love and being very successful in their endeavors. Because what he is doing is what I hoped for with my life by this time. I will, though, never tell my friend how angry I am that he gets to live my dream, for that would cause anguish between us.
I also feel guilt, as I do every day and every night that I breathe. This guilt I have felt for nearly two months straight, resulting from the only true love and the only true heartbreak I have ever had the privilege to go through. But I broke his heart. And he should probably hate me for what I did to him. I don’t understand why he even still talks to me. If I were him, I would probably hate myself.
And then there’s the feeling of needing to cry. I haven’t let a single tear slip through for a month, keeping myself strong, but tonight is the hardest I’ve had to endure in the past month. So through my tears, my mind makes me feel anger. Sheer anger that makes me lash out and, in the worst of cases, hurt myself in the process. And though my anger is normally seen on other people, I can’t keep a guilty conscience happy with that. So one must find alternate ways of keeping the mind and body happy with the soul inside.
And the last feeling I feel is the feeling of sheer love. The truth is, I’ve never once stopped loving you since the day we first met at competition to the night that I write this and beyond. There’s no way that I could ever let something like that slip out of my hands again. If I could go back to two months ago, trust me when I say I wouldn’t end a thing. I’ve never felt such pain as that which I feel when I think of you. We would even be going on nine months this month. And I just threw it all away. How could I throw something so amazing away? I don’t understand how I could be so stupid as to leave you. I knew I never deserved a single being like you. Because I love you, and I’ll never, EVER get over it. Ever.