I've always had a love for music. I was raised with an older brother born in the late ’90s which meant I had the great privilege of growing up listening to early 2000's rock. The guitar always fascinated me. The idea of pressing a piece of nylon or steel onto a wooden board and creating a beautiful tone was novel but beautiful. Eventually, this fascination led me to pick up a guitar. Since then, I've spent countless hours of my life playing and practicing. Living in a cramped environment in a studio apartment with up to four other individuals has always made it difficult to find a quiet place in which to take a step back and just sit. During quarantine, this challenge was only exacerbated. The quarantine brought many dark times with it. The very peace that the guitar provided me got me through many of these hard times: when my sister contracted COVID, when we suffered a house fire, when my grandmother passed after her lifelong battle with diabetes, and when my grandfather passed shortly after of COVID. Through it all, I had a million thoughts inhabiting my head. The one thing I could trust in was the momentary bliss my trusty Mahogany Yamaha would provide me. Playing the guitar creates a feeling in me I can only describe as nirvana. The moment I play a chord it's as if all else, the screaming from my chaotic neighbors, the sounds of cars zooming across the freeway next door, goes silent, only the guitar and I are left behind. For a second, however long that chord lasts, all is quiet, all is peaceful, all is good. Though these moments are rare and hard to achieve, all the blisters and broken strings become worth it when all else falls away.