Dear Lauren,

I don't know what to do. I'm currently hiding out in the restroom while I try to make the tears go away.

My brother was telling my mom and I about his 5th grade strings class that my orchestra teacher runs. According to him, she's super nice to them and even said that they're "perfect." She's manipulating them, I just know it. She would never give a compliment higher than good jobs. Her motto is basically "no matter how long you perfect your instrument, you will never be enough." She's just trying to get them to stay in orchestra until they get to 6th grade where she can scream and make them cry as much as she wants.

I hate her, but my brother likes her.

Making children cry is the only happiness she gets besides lying about how chamber is the best orchestra in the world (spoiler, they're not). I should know.

I remember seeing the girl next to me burst into tears after so much of Mrs. W telling her all the things she did wrong on her test. I wish I could have helped.

I remember my friend telling me about how this one kid started crying after Mrs. W talked to him in 5th grade strings.

And finally, I remember asking Mrs. W if I could text my mom for permission since I forgot to get her to sign the permission sheet to get Tikiz's after school with the orchestra and if I could sign it for her. I could have sworn Mrs. W said yes, so I texted my mom and put down her signature.

As I was trying to gently rip the paper apart so I could turn in the signed part, Mrs. W turned to me and started screaming about how forging my mom's signature was wrong, how she could never accept it, and how I should have known it was wrong. Looking back on it, I'm glad she didn't give me a write up. It would have been very her to do it.

I could feel everyone's eyes on me as my orchestra teacher continued to shout. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life. Tears started coming to my eyes, just like they are now, but unlike now, I refused to let them fall.

I'm in pain, so much pain from that. I've refused to bring it up until now, the only place it dwelled was in my nightmares. Now that my brother's saying that she's nice, I can't anymore. I can't keep it down.

She's not nice, can't you see that? She's worse than the devil! Please, make this woman go away! I can't take it anymore! It was only a little bit more than a year ago, but it still haunts me!

It makes me feel like I'm horrible to the core of my very soul, like I will never deserve any sort of happiness in my life. Maybe I'm the reason we can't do snow cones anymore. I'm not a horrible person, right?

No, I am, and this is only proof. Maybe she is nice and I just hate her too much to see it.

But Lauren, you were there. You played violin for a year! Please tell me you remember how she put chamber on a podium and compared us all to them, the beginners who didn't even know how to hold their instruments correctly to the people who played Bach like it was nothing?

I don't care that you're dead, just give me a sign I'm not crazy!