In middle school, I joined band because my sister had done it the year before me. I wanted to play the trumpet, but since she got there first, I had to pick something different. Thus began my violent love-hate relationship with the French Horn.

I started really loving music during my later years in high school. I played in a great band program, and I played in marching band. Music ran my life, and my schedule became simple; rehearsal, practice, sleep, repeat. My horn and I got along so well, and I loved it. As far as I was concerned, I was only in high school to go to rehearsal everyday. The rest seemed so unimportant that my grades suffered, though I still continued my education and went to college.

I went into Florida Gulf Coast University as a music education major. I still wasn't sure about what I wanted to major in, but music seemed to be the thing that made me happy. My first few weeks into classes, though, I quickly learned that I wasn't as passionate about music as I once thought.

Playing and learning about music are two completely different entities. Music theory and aural skills were daunting, and I hated everything about my private lessons. I started to hate the horn, hate college, and hate practicing. I did horrible my first two years at school, but I didn't care. I hated the horn, and the horn clearly hated me.

I changed my major the second half of my sophomore year to journalism, yet I kept music as my minor. I had always known throughout my life that I wanted to write, and journalism only made sense to me. I began taking classes, and I excelled. I made the dean's list, and I started to love school. I still played the horn, and I still played in three ensembles within the college. The horn and I took a bit of a break; we saw each other about two to three times a week, but we spent some time apart.

I began to love music again, but I knew changing my major was the best decision I had made in my college career. I never forgot about my love for horn, and I never stopped playing. It was like I was finally able to love what I was doing, with and without the horn. I found a balance that worked for both me and my instrument.

As I got older, and newer horn players came to compete, I started to slip. My competitive edge was there, but I was not as good at the horn as them. I wasn't in the top orchestra anymore, and I started to hate my horn again. I felt cheated and angry. I wasn't a music major, but my love for music had been overlooked because it wasn't my major. I tried to focus on my journalism classes, but I could never forget about my love for music.

I am going into my senior year, and auditions for the top orchestra have just passed. I didn't make it, again, but I'm upset for much deeper reasons. I cannot fit other bands into my schedule, so I knew it was time for me to say goodbye to my instrument for the rest of my college career. I loved the horn, and I still do. But it wasn't working out the way I wanted it to.

I plan on playing for the rest of my days, and I hope to one day love the horn the way I used to. Music was such an incredible part of my life, and I met so many amazing people through music. It's very hard to say goodbye, but I know it's not really goodbye. It's just, "I'll see you later."