I got my first guitar when I was 10 years old. It was a navy blue Ibanez from guitar center. It was used and when I played it It sounded like a shriek more than anything of music, but it was mine. I’ll never forget the first time I sat in a soundproofed room at that music school With Jimi Hendrix posters on the wall, playing the riff of “Satisfaction" by The Rolling Stones completely off beat and thinking to myself that I had found magic. Back then, metal strings still made my fingers bleed and I used to forget song formats and my rhythm was horrible no matter how often I used a metronome.
My second guitar was a matte black Jackson with a sharp headstock. I drew flowers on it with a white sharpie and took out springs in the back Which made the bridge float until it was almost unplayable. But I didn’t notice and I didn’t care because it was mine and I still played with my eyes closed and sang off key I used to scream the lyrics to Green Day songs and I felt like I knew who I was I used to be unafraid and though Posters on the walls were replaced, white walls were painted dark gray somehow that school still felt like home With music blaring through practice rooms
I think I’m always going to miss the sound of music Not professional, produced Not crisp and clean, but raw music played by teenagers who could eat 6 boxes of pizza in 20 minutes. I remember walking in the rain to the CVS across the street Joking and laughing I remember growing up with friends that became a family
My third guitar was a Fender Stratocaster, sea foam green. I bought it used and the fretboard is chipped but its mine. Now my hair is its natural, bleak dark brown and I prefer indie to hard rock but I am still me. And I don’t think I’ll ever become the musician I once wanted to be But I know that music is seared into my soul And that’s the only thing that hasn’t changed.