The 6E string in my guitar snapped
but I don’t mind since it’s just a string.
I can get another string somewhere else.
It’s not like one single string will ruin
the rest that’s left in my guitar.
But to be clear,
I never liked my 6E string.
It buzzed, squealed like it was its own person,
having a mind that refused to follow mine.
I hated it with every ounce of my being,
never understood why it had to be THAT string
that defied me so boldly.
It reminded me of my frustration,
of the times I wanted to slam my guitar down,
just to drown its chaotic scream.
Why couldn't it be deep like the low E?
Steady, rich, a dependable hum
the way I imagined all strings should be.
But I guess I asked too soon.
Maybe it needed to break
for me to finally hear the silence I mourn.
Maybe in snapping,
it reminded me that imperfection sings too,
that the stubborn, unpredictable noise
has its place in music,
even if it wasn't what I wanted to hear.
And as I sit here restringing,
I think — maybe next time,
I'll let the 6E string be
