When I was a little tiny 5th grader, I was faced with important decision that would affect my middle school and high school careers. I was told to pick a musical instrument or be stuck singing in a crappy choir. Looking at the long list of instruments, one in particular word called out to me. Clarinet.

Yes, it was the prefect instrument for a girl like me. It wasn’t ultra-girly like the screeching, high-pitched flute. It wasn’t the horrible evil goose like squawk of the oboe. It was the only woodwind that was known for awesome jazz music and symphonies without being a total douche (i.e. flutes). Saxophones have their place in music lover’s hearts but they just lack the versatility of clarinets. Brass instruments are wonderful in their own right, but I would rather be able to flit my fingers up and down a piece of wood than be able to blow raspberries into a mouthpiece all day.

I’m going to say goodbye to my instrument.

I’m selling it, I’m putting it sleep, I’m giving it to new home, I’m letting my clarinet make sweet music with someone else because I can’t be what Sophie needs any more. (Yes I did name my clarinet, thanks for noticing.) I don’t play my clarinet anymore, and it deserves to be played. It has been long enough since I’ve last played the pretty woodwind that I no longer have calluses from seven years of playing inadequately. It is time to say goodbye.


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