I've been playing guitar for six years and at one point I was really good. Now when I pick up a guitar I notice I play the same songs I always play. I've learned all the songs I want to learn.
Playing/writing music used to bring me so much joy. It was like a release. I always wrote/played songs that had something to do with what I was going through.
When I was a pot head I would write stupid songs about how peace and love can solve all of our problems. Then when I was a Hunter S. Thompson junkie I would write stuff about how fucked up the world is.
Then when I got addicted to a heroin/meth cocktail I would write depressing songs about how hard life is.
Then when I was psychotic I would write these nonsensical Syd Barrett-like songs that were simple and the lyrics made no sense.
But now I have nothing going on in my life that would inspire me to play guitar.
My passion has burned out. As I sit here writing this blog I look at the one guitar I have left sitting in the corner of the living room, collecting dust. (All my other guitars were sold to pawn shops for drug money.)
I guess I have to find a new hobby because this one is becoming dead to me.