As I sat in my living room, I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between where I started my career in entertainment and where I was now. I had become so consumed with the idea of being successful that I failed to focus on the very thing that inspired this lifelong journey. With a heavy sigh, I pushed myself up from the couch and walked over to the closet by the main entrance of my apartment. The sliding door whispered open, revealing a collection of guitar cases that had been tucked away in the shadows, a symbol of my past life. My eyes were drawn to a black bag, which I knew housed one of my favorite acoustics. As I approached the closet, I could feel the memories rushing back, like a wave washing over me. The anticipation built as I reached for the black bag, my fingers curling around the handle. I could almost hear the music, the laughter, and the camaraderie of my early days in the entertainment industry. Dragging the bag back to the living room, I settled down on the soft sofa, feeling the weight of the instrument inside the case. My heart raced as I unzipped the black case, revealing the shiny wood of the guitar. It looked as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on it, the curves and lines so familiar, like the touch of an old friend. Picking up the guitar, I pressed my fingers against the strings and frets, using my fingernails to gently strum the familiar chords of my past. The sound resonated through the room, bringing with it a tidal wave of emotions. My chest swelled with a mix of joy and sadness as I played the notes of my earliest recordings, remembering the feeling of being on stage. Times were different now, and gone were the days when a simple email would get you a hole-in-the-wall bar with a sound system. Without an EPK to present or social media numbers to guarantee an audience, I knew I was lightyears away from being on a big stage again. But at that moment, all I could hear was the low hum reverberating from the soundhole of my acoustic, filling the empty space around me.

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