As I sit here, idling my days away in the semi-comfortable embrace of my guitar stand, I have but one question to you, my owner: why? Why must you chain me here, day in and day out? You claim to “dabble,” so I hear, but when, pray tell, was the last time you “dabbled” with me? Recall our sweet duets of Riptide and Wonderwall? Don’t you remember those golden days, when you would play me for tens of minutes on end whenever you heard a song you sort of wanted to learn?
The subtle, maddening nature of isolation and unfulfillment is really starting to get to me.