Is it wrong to hate doing something simply because you're doing it? Or, rather, the person you remember doing it isn't anymore? Some people love change, adapt perfectly to it. Some don't. I have always been one of the second kind: change hurts, even if it needs to happen. Life goes on, whatever you do, but my stubborn heart doesn't want to accept that. I didn't ask to cry when last year's drum major watched me conduct for the first time, and it wasn't because I was doing poorly (though I was) or because she corrected me. I didn't want to be on the podium, I wanted her to be. So badly it was tearing me up inside and bringing ashamed and unwelcome wetness to my tired eyes. I still quote what she used to say to me, I try unendingly to be anywhere near as good as her, but nothing can be replaced. Especially someone like her, with someone like me. But I go on because I know life is going to rush forward and pass me by if I don't. I go on because she wants me to; her words are the bit of strength left in my arms and in my heart. When the band is dragging my arms to the ground, I hold them up, remembering the times she did the same. An encouraging smile, a compliment, or any constructive criticism is worth more than a thousand energy drinks to me. And I take everything to heart and stand strong when it's impossible to do so. For her.
"I'm holding on, but letting go of you."
-The All American Rejects