Today I was sitting in my room, just minding my own business, when my guitar caught my attention.
It interrupted my reading and reminded me that I hadn’t played it in a very long time. I have an excuse of sorts, I live in a cheap apartment with extremely inadequate sound-proofing, and 99% of the time I’m not even in my apartment except when people would (or should) be sleeping. However, it just so happened that I was here, in my apartment, during the day. And there was my guitar, quietly challenging me.
So I picked it up. Strummed a bit, played a few chords. I felt entirely self-conscious, that those in the rooms next to mine would hear and judge and be annoyed at the noise, and my weak fingertips reminded me of days past when they were permanently calloused, when I thought of myself as a guitarist.
Now I mostly think of myself as someone who merely was a guitarist. Who can play some chords and pick some patterns and strum some rhythms, but who doesn’t really have the right to own a guitar.
In short, I need to play my guitar more.