Hearts don't grow calluses

I would live a life of loneliness and disease
so long as you were in the backdrop.
I would trade in a long life without you
for a short one with no one else but you.
I would work every day of the work,
every day of the year,
if it meant I could spend one entire day with you
next year.
I would sell my soul tonight,
to have you to myself for the morning.
I would die tomorrow
to be with you tonight.


Certain things get to you, in relation with the day and the life. Certain things open your eyes, tease you. but you still see them., even if it hurts.
I'm playing guitar.
How painful do you think it is, to go months without touching the strings, to lose your calluses... and then to re-string the instrument, give it new life, prepare it for its new life, and cut your hands and fingers to do it? all for an instrument? all for music? all for art? expresion? imagine the pain for it. any musician would know. any musician could understand the relation to the heart. Imagine the pain a heart goes through, when you go for so long without inspiration, and to suddenly have it... when you can't use it?
I played guitar, because I was inspired by something. I can't even trace it, maybe tomorrow. But I've been inspired. and I'm trying to play. but it hurts. a lot. physical pain!

and for some reason, I feel my heart aching. I still can't get over that, how it still aches, after four years to adjust, it still aches. Hearts don't grow calluses, I guess. Only the mind.