My lumanog finally gave out last Friday (body tuklap-ed). Crimson was 9 years old. Was hoping I could play you under the cherry blossoms, but it was your time. My parents bought you for such a cheap price. They never thought you'd survive this long. With you, I learned to love strumming your strings and attempt to produce music. In times of despair, frustration, frustration, guilt, and heart-wrenching pain, you became the outlet of all my outbursts. You patiently endured the strain of my experimental clumsy fingers on your frets. We made sweet music and sometimes beautiful noise together. In your silence, you comforted me. Your body was a bloody shade of red and despite my fear of blood, I loved you. Your bruised side caused by Elmer accidentally kicking you while doing his robot moves reminds me of fond memories of high school. My friends (ruds, jessie, maxine, anj, josh, katz, dorcas, bry, nado) even signed the paper we used to cover up your crack. :)
I know it's strange to be this attached to a music instrument, but he comprised a huge chunk of my teen and early adult life. I'll miss playing you, old pal.
