Well, I had my last spring concert tonight. I cant say that I am complaining about it either. When I was onstage, I didnt feel the nervous jitters that I once had in my tummy. I guess after eighth grade.. you just kind of get over it. I miss that. I miss feeling like everything is new. Instead, Im saying everything is my last.

I cried during the second movement of Lincolnshire. I dont know how to describe this overwhelming moment. The lights dimmed, at least from my eyes, and all I could see is the beauty of where I was sitting. I was sitting in a masterpiece of music. It was being created all over again, around me, in me, and through me. I could hardly play, but felt completely guilty if I didnt. The tears welled at the curve of my neck and I let them stay there. They were hot and kept me from freezing over with goosebumps. There is just something about letting your feelings go through music. Playing somehow takes away whatever pain your feeling and replaces it with love. Love for the notes, harmony, the feeling of life around you. Everyone wanting the same thing you do. It is absolutely beautiful. Stunning. Radiant.
When the trumpet soared, I just about lost it altogether.




Come away with me,
take me.
and perfect the art
of shattering our hearts.




P.S.

P.S. Is what the alphabet would look like if you took out Q and R.