Layout by: Heart Magbanua
Published by: Daniel Joshua Madrid
Date Published: April 8, 2024
Time Published: 7:00 AM
Category: Prose
Subjects: Yearning, unrequited romance, music
I never was able to play the guitar, you never inspired me to tune it.
No, you didn’t inspire me. But, hypothetically, I think with a bit of tuning, my songs wouldn’t have ended in a high-pitched monstrosity. That tune didn’t fit you, did it? No, you were softer. It was in the way you looked at the audience, the way you liked to sing about love and the way you preferred warmer tones.
Song after song, I only played rock. Never love, it was a revolution. They sang for freedom and they sang for expression. To them, love was careless and love was fleeting. They sang praises to individuality and to the last man standing. Or women, they were progressive.
You were on the stage that night, I was in the crowd. Our eyes never met, that idea was stupid. You only looked at those who had their banners waving high and at those who cried for your name. But I stood there, I danced, I liked your music even if it lacked something other than heartbreak in New York—hah! You haven't even stepped foot in New York, have you?
If we met, I don’t believe I would’ve loved you, or you, I. If we met, I don’t believe we would’ve exchanged many words. We weren’t alike, we held nothing in common. It would’ve been awkward. What a shame.
But still, I met you in the new songs I’ve downloaded. I made a new playlist then, it was the songs you played. I met you when I passed by that instrument shop. I met you from the sight of my unused guitar. I met you everywhere I loved and wished to have—God knows I saw you everywhere and yet you saw me as a figure in the crowd.
For my sake, I never deluded myself with the hope that you knew me. It was for the best. I was a revolution, you were love. I was free, you were heartbroken. You would have never been able to know me.
But I picked up that guitar, it was old, unused, and unloved by me. It lacked attention, it lacked some tuning. I played the strings momentarily, it sounded awful. The sounds were not like yours.
You didn’t inspire me to play music, I only ever held it.
(I’m afraid to love you, and I look longingly for you.)
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