"Why me, O God?"

I used to play the flute. I was as dedicated to practicing and improving my playing as a nun is to praying. Music was my life and playing the flute was my way of expressing myself. I wouldn't have admitted this back then, but now I'm not so modest: I was talented. I had that spark of talent that you see in professional musicians and my sole goal in life was to become a professional flutist.

When I was sixteen I was accepted to an acclaimed school for the arts, and that's when it happened. Suddenly, every time I would try and play, my hands felt like someone was trying to rip them apart. I went to several doctors, went through physical therapy, and there was no change. Nobody could figure out what was wrong with my hands and I haven't played since.

It might be hard for some people to understand this, but when I realized I might never play again it felt like a part of my soul was ripped away from the whole. I spent a very long time going through life as if nothing mattered anymore. I tried composing music for a while and I was accepted into the same school as a composition major, but I knew that wasn't something I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing.

I have asked "why" dozens of times and I still don't have a completely clear answer. After thinking about it for hours on end, I have decided that maybe life has something more important for me to do and that's the idea that I've rolled with since coming to terms with this whole thing. I'm also thankful that this problem doesn't keep me from functioning normally and that I can still do normal things with my hands, though what I do is limited by how much pain it causes. I could have it much worse and I'm very thankful that I don't.

I can say that my life outlook has changed because of this. Now I accept the fact that things happen that you can't control and that you can either let those things keep you depressed and resentful, like I was for a couple of years, or you can learn to accept those things and move on.

Jam it back in, in the dark.