Guitar man
A look back.
Today I picked up my guitar after so long. After two songs, I started to get emotional.
When I was young, not a day would pass without me playing my guitar. It was popular back in the days, playing music and being in a band. After school, I would lock myself in my room playing every song in a songbook.
Eventually, I began writing my songs. It came naturally as I was fond of poetry. I still have with me three notebooks full of my teenage emotions.
I am a fan of music. And I love creating music. I have this life-long dream to play my songs on a stage in front of people. Them singing along, and me (and the band) playing our hearts out.
As I sang a few lines from my second song, the lyrics struck a few strings.
“When will you ever come home to me?”
My love for music abandoned me. Or did I?
My guitar was out of tune. It was covered in dust. I’ve barely played it in the past year.
I just miss playing. I miss singing (I’m not a singer but a guitarist).
I still love discovering music. But playing and composing are impossible at this point. Now I find it hard to find time, peace, and creativity to pursue my music.
Because life happened. And some things should be prioritized more than my self-interests.
I can only hope that someday, I’ll be truly home again.