It seems that, no matter how good a day has been, my mind is flooded with negative thoughts and memories at night. Tonight is particularly bad and I can't sleep because of it. I can't really say I'm thinking about this, but rather my brain seems to think I need to be reminded. The thing keeping me up tonight happened in high school.
We did a musical every year at my school and I was always in the orchestra pit. Most of the time, I can only remember how fun it was. We had a tradition-- every drink bottle we finished would be put on the ledge surrounding the pit and the goal was to get the whole thing covered. My friends and I put more than our fair share up there. We also had our "costumes" for each musical (crowns for Once Upon A Mattress, Cowboy hats for Oklahoma!, etc...). We had pit parties, pajama day for our Saturday rehearsals, and so many other fun things! Tonight, however, my brain has decided to remember Kathryn and Brad (I frankly don't care that I'm using real names here. Bullies have no right to identity protection).
Kathryn played string bass and Brad played trombone. Both sat behind me in the pit. Side note: I play clarinet. I honestly can't remember if this was my sophomore or junior year, but I want to say sophomore, but either way, it has stuck with me. See, they decided that, whenever we reached a poco rit. in the music, they would poke me with the bow and say "poco retard!" I tried a few times to passively wave it off, hoping that, by not reacting, they'd lose interest and quit doing it. They didn't. It went on from the first pit rehearsal all the way through closing night. All I could do was pretend not to notice then cry in the bathroom during breaks and intermission.
To this day, I get a minor panic attack when I'm playing a piece and I see poco rit. Every now and then, people ask why I don't play anymore. I give excuses like, "I don't have anyone to play with," or, more recently, "I busted my wrist," but honestly, I just get sick of being afraid of basic music notations. I play a wind instrument. I can't afford to lose my breath.
I have no idea what I did to deserve to be their target. Even after the musical, I tried being nice to them, but they both treated me like something they'd stepped in. Was it something I did? Was it something I said? Was it Brooke? If any of my fellow Colts still talk to either of these two... people... any explanation would be appreciated. I'd even accept an "I don't remember, but I'm sorry."
Cliché, but I love this movement of this piece.
"K622- Allegro"~ Mozart
I was not as nice as you. I 'took it' from Steve (real name) for the first half of 6th grade before I flailed into him. The principal broke up the fight and then rematched us in the gym with boxing gloves, which was declared a draw. Steve never bothered me again and even became a friend later on. I suspect that Kathryn and Brad would be apologetic as adults.
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