TMB, I love you.

Woe
is me! How these two seasons have come and gone. Soon you will be
nothing more than a distant memory… Let thy heart reminisce on the
good times thou hast had with thee.

Oh
how we despised each other at first, TMB. Only time would tell if our
love would manifest into the one we know now, and yet our struggle only
made me better, you see. Trying to run laps and discovering I had
asthma, for example, or the terrible bouts of insomnia every night,
these things made me stronger. And somewhere along the line? Oh how sweet! We fell into young, unadulterated, love. Also sleep is for pussies.

But
we both know such a day of woe hast been haunting us since the
beginning. The war has summoned me, TMB, and we must part for the unseen
future. I am told this war is called “filmmaking,” or something of the
sort, and that it involves my utter attention on Tuesdays, Thursdays,
Fridays, and Saturdays. The prospect of this filmmaking terrifies me, my
love, because my only real skills in this world are playing the first 8
bars of the “Santana Medley” and rather averagely driving it down the
field. Perhaps being able to stand up for hours on end with no break
will impress these so called makers of film. Or thy tolerance for old
men yelling in microphones might make thee go far (kid).

How
will I live without seeing the sun rise over Cromwell Field at 6:34am
every Saturday? Without a constant need for sports bras and gym shorts
with pockets? Without dozens of red shirts? Without 7 hour bus trips?
Without having to explain what a mellophone is to every single fucking
person that asks what thee plays (and subsequently replying “Oooo oooo!”
until they say “Awww shit thos’re awesome!!”)

“Tis
such a shame to part! Thy spirit is crushed, and you, o’ Spirit of
Troy, live on without one more horn by thy side! For you are the
Greatest Marching Band in the History of the Universe and all others can
EMBOWAFA, for all eternity!

Perhaps
you will see thee in another life, TMB, where every football game is
won 69-0 and people actually like the woodwinds. But for now, I wish you
farewell.