1After nearly twenty years of playing the violin quite seriously, I have finally decided to stop playing altogether.
2It sounds rather dramatic to say so, but the instrument had quietly and gradually become my entire identity.
3Every single spare hour of my week was surrendered to practice, rehearsals, and weekend concerts with the local amateur orchestra.
4Friends eventually stopped inviting me out to dinner because they knew that I would always refuse their offers.
5The real turning point came when I finally realised that I no longer enjoyed even a single note.
6Playing the violin had become nothing more than an obligation, a hollow habit performed purely out of sheer stubbornness.
7Letting go of it felt like a small bereavement, and for quite a while I mourned it accordingly.
8For several long months afterwards, the violin sat completely untouched in its case under the bed, gathering dust.
9Then, very gradually, the other parts of my life began to reclaim all the space it had occupied.
10I started reading novels again, walking in the evenings, and phoning the old friends I had neglected for years.
11Curiously enough, I have recently begun to miss the violin a little, though only a very little, and only sometimes.
12Perhaps one day I will pick it up again, but this time purely for pleasure and nothing else.