Just Me & My Guitar

Nothing's more intimate than playing the guitar. It had been ages since I had slid my flabby fingers on its strings. The frets are now crusted with dust and some of its cogs (I'm not sure what you call them) give a squeaky sound as I turn them. The feeling is nostalgic. It reminded of me high school. Worry-free and just pure fun. Tonight I won't be talking about fun and high school. Life had been so rough and work had been so dreary—not the typical feeling of a teenager from a suburb secondary school.

Just me and my guitar... I've realized I get comfort from the strumming of its strings. The thump felt like a pat on my shoulder. The rhythms are smooth and gentle. I need them so much. It's funny I get all of these from an inanimate object made by human hands. I only got myself to deal with this. I wonder what's holding me together and all the while all the answers are just on the tip of my nose. Like oil on water they surface out.  We should know that each one's perspective or point of view is as unique as a fingerprint or the contours of our tongue.  Everything can go haywire and I missed that. But hey I still believe in better days. ☺