I Wish I Had Treasured More of You While I Still Could.
- stumphy
- May 30, 2024
- 4 min read
I started playing the cello when I was 6.
When I first started learning, I loved it. In fact, that’s why I chose it — I fell in love with it, from the bow that melts the layers of ice deep within to the strings that echo through the deepest void in my heart, forming the melodies that stir up waves deep beneath the sea of my soul. It was a marvellous combination of harmony and craftsmanship.
The cello is a master of echoing emotions — it’s called the singing instrument for a reason. Whenever I play, my feelings are shown to the whole world, my thoughts are transmitted to every being in the universe, and my thoughts are broadcast to every corner of the cosmos.
We were best friends when we first met. I fell in love with him, and he was there whenever I wanted to play him. We were together all the time, and I enjoyed every moment of it.
Because of this, I was met with many opportunities. It led me to ensembles and orchestras, where I met many new people and friends. With them, I was able to perform and share my thoughts and emotions with people I treasure.
As I entered middle school, we started to separate slowly. The ice went cold, the wall between us was slowly undergoing construction, and we weren’t as close as before.
Not that I didn’t like it — I still loved it — it’s just that I didn’t feel like playing it. Perhaps I was too lazy to practice or found something more interesting than the cello; I just didn’t play as much.
To me, the cello became a tool — A tool for me to get through music classes, ensemble rehearsals, and music exams.
It wasn’t the best outcome, but it worked. I kept attending music classes with it and was still among the top. I continued with ensemble rehearsals, and I got closer to my friends. With its help, I got through every exam that went in my way. I even got outstanding results for some of them.
And just like that, what was once a friendship became a transaction. Who was once a friend became just a tool for me — a tool for responsibilities, a tool for social, and a tool for academics.
Slowly, as I went through middle school and high school, we went from partners to a solely transactional relationship. I no longer played it for fun, and I no longer wanted to play just for fun.
When I left high school, cello classes were discontinued, ensembles were no longer a thing, and music exams became history.
Naturally, I never touched my cello again.
I still loved the cello — I still admired the beautiful voice. But I no longer enjoyed playing it, sharing my inner world with the world through it.
We broke up. We no longer knew each other, and we had become strangers.
Whenever I listened to any cello pieces, a part of me still wept, mourning the days when I played this beautiful instrument. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get rid of it. Instead, it grew stronger and stronger as every day passed by.
I looked at the case, collecting dust in the corner of the room. I replayed every moment we had together repeatedly, looping time after time; I couldn’t hold it.
I reached out and opened the dust-covered case.
There it was, looking gorgeous, just like the day I met it.
I sat down, removed it from the case, and extended its leg until it was at the right height. I took the bow, tightened it, and applied some rosin. Everything was ready. It’s time to commence our long-awaited dance.
As I lifted my bow, something felt weird in my arm. My arms were reallytight. I continued for another few notes, but they cramped so hard I couldn’t continue.
No…
I panicked as thoughts rushed through my mind. I didn’t want to end it; I wanted to keep going…
I stretched it and massaged it for a while. I was desperate. I didn’t want this to end this way. I wanted us to finally get back together so badly. As I sat down once again and lifted the bow…
…
I put it back in the case, closed it, and put it back in the corner. I sat down and looked at it; tears filled my eyes, and I couldn’t hold them. It felt inevitable yet so avoidable.
I finally realized. As much as I didn’t want to end it, I might have ended it long
ago. No matter how hard I try, I can’t run away forever— I’m breaking up with my cello.
Dear Cello:
Thanks for being there for me throughout these 14 years. I loved you, and I still do.
When we first met, we were best friends. Sometime later, you became a tool to
me, and eventually, you became a stranger to me. I didn’t know what caused it, but I want to say I miss you, and I want to go back to the times when we were best friends.
When I treated you like a service, I knew I would have to pay for this — I just hadn’t known the price yet. And today, when I found out that I’m no longer capable of being your owner — we were like strangers who happened to have spent a night together sometime before — I knew it was time to pay the price.
This marks the end of our 14-year journey. It was my choice to ditch you, and I had to pay the price. But still, thank you for everything.
I wish I had treasured more of you while I still could.
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