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This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Washington chapter.

My symphony used to be like others.

She was happy, bright, and exciting. 

The rhythm was fast with a stable

pitch. My symphony

had many audiences.


My symphony used to be like others.

Many people wanted to get closer

to her, asking for more of her beauty,

so I played louder.


My symphony used to be like others.

The whole piece reverberated, 

captivating her mesmerized audiences. 

Nobody interrupted and all listened. 


But my symphony is now different.  

It is dull, sad, and lifeless. 

The rhythm is slowing down.

It is everywhere like a rollercoaster ride.


But my symphony is now different. 

My symphony is a plague 

that scares everyone away,

even though I already tried to play it quiet.

I don’t want my symphony to be mine. 

Is it actually mine?


But the symphony is now different. 

Most of my audience left except two.

It can’t find its place

in the midst of thousands of critics.


How are you? They asked.

We always say we’re fine

before our symphonies choke and falter

into the darkness.