The guitar had been left standing on the driveway, along with a pile of miscellaneous objects: a vacuum cleaner, a couple of lamps, an old suitcase, boxes, to name a few. I couldn't help but fixate on that guitar. As someone who plays, I know that it isn't fit for an instrument made of wood to be exposed to the elements like it was.

It had no case. The temperature was in the nineties that week and a torrential downpour was in the forecast. For sure, the neighbor didn't play. Somebody who played the guitar would have taken better care of it.

I told my mom, who also plays guitar (I've used her Alvarez for the past couple of years) but hadn't noticed it in the pile until I brought it up. I considered asking for it myself but to be honest, I wasn't its sole rescuer. The next day, after the downpour, my mom reported that after talking with the neighbor, he let us have it. According to her, he was going to throw it away with the other items.

This guy had no idea what he was throwing out! This guitar is also an Alvarez, which is a brand of good quality and price. Fast forward a week later and I learn from my guitar teacher, who fixed it up (I busted the E string attempting to tune it the day after it was rescued and dried out) just how special it is.

"You are one lucky girl," he said, placing a new battery inside the built-in tuner and showing me how it can be connected to an amplifier, an acoustic-electric hybrid made with real solid wood (the cheap guitars are made with plywood). I knew that acoustic-electric guitars existed, but after giving it a go with the amp, I realized it had the dignity of being a fancy performance instrument.

Just how can anybody throw out a perfectly good-quality guitar? An instrument worth a few hundred dollars. It has some TLC in my room, seated on its new stand with an owner thankful to have it there ready to make music with.

In dealing a certain toxic person, I see that some of us are just like that guitar. We've been treated like or told that we're worthless, left to believe that no one wants us, that we are garbage. However, the words of toxic individuals are not valid standards. The neighbor gave a valuable item away for nothing and that's his own problem. The opinions of toxic people and their blindness to the value of other individuals are their own problems.

I'm not an expert like my guitar teacher, but I looked at that pile of junk and I knew that the guitar did not belong there. Sometimes we are left uncomfortable in our own skin and when somebody genuinely befriends us, says that they love and care for us, we wonder why. What's there to love? Maybe it's because we are obviously not human garbage. It has just gotten into our minds that we are, but it's not true.

Of course, a guitar can't think or feel. It's an inanimate object. Still, it is a crying shame to see an inanimate object that is high-quality and worth a good price be discarded. How much more are we worth? How much more should we lament a human soul left without the love it needs to thrive? How much more should we pity the potential and good qualities never put in act, perhaps never even recognized because they were never given a chance.

My guitar is sitting on its new stand in my room. Now, it has an owner that is glad to have it, ready to play music with it. After all, that's what guitars are made for and it has the wood, strings (I'll be more careful with tuning it from now on!), all that's necessary to do so!