Dear Clari,

I know I'm usually the one doing all the talking since I'm actually alive...but nevertheless, I still have a few words I want to say to you. First things first, thank you. Thank you for being there for me when nobody else was. Thank you for being my outlet, my inspiration, and, even occasionally, my only source of talent.

The only reason I kept up with you for so long was that you were the best way for me to express myself to not only the world but to myself as well. Whenever I needed a mouthpiece to hold, or a reed to cry on, you were there. Through the good times and the (frequent) bad times, you were my best friend.

But, best friends do fight. I will acknowledge that. There were days where it felt like the ink on my pages of music was a foreign language to you. Not to mention the many days of "surprise! I'm broken!" just when I needed you the most. I bought you expensive gifts, (reeds, cases, unnecessary accessories, etc.), some of which you refused to properly thank me for. How can all of the reeds in a whole box be no good to you? Despite this, we pushed through years of S&E performances, concerts, recitals, lessons, and even hauled through books of "Disney Songs for Clarinet".

Yet, I still have days of built up bitterness towards you when what was supposed to be our two hours of intense practicing goes astray. Even so, my bitterness towards you cannot last long. While other angry people in the world said "screw you" to life, I instead was screwing on my ligature.

And while hatred roamed the earth, I instead was filling the air with your gorgeous, gracious, musical sounds. My passion for music and life was enhanced when I first picked you up, and it will never let up until the very last time I set you down.

So thank you, Clari. I truly do love you, but you still owe me over a thousand bucks in instrument repairs.

Sincerely,

Your broke owner

P.S. Meet later for sight-reading my new Christmas songs book?