[ 22 . 4 . 2019 , 2007 ]
sitting with my guitar cradled in my lap , the once - familiar feeling of its curves and edges i had aligned myself to feels heartbreakingly alien. as i strummed softly i felt the metallic scent of the strings hit me like a pang of nostalgia, i realised the dents in my fingers hurt more than they had in a long time, like they'd never known the touch and bite of a string before. the notes came out distorted and i cursed myself for giving up on something that could've made me happy, could've offered me a safe haven. i realised it's not the first thing i let go of. and now i'm just sitting with my barren heart spilling on the sheet music, hurting with the loss of all the things i let go of that could've been special.















