If there is one thing that God has not given me, it would be a beautiful singing voice. I was never a singer, just a listener to those who do. I remember being jealous of my mother, who sings videoke, and I would emulate her. Unfortunately, my voice is not at all suited for such endeavor, and I just end up embarrassing myself.
Adolescence came. I entered young adulthood. And I have had my heart broken a few times and some dreams shattered to a million pieces. I have broken down in tears, I have thrown things in a fit of fury, I have launched word wars. All of them to vent out the emotions that I, the impassive, expressionless, cold-hearted person stored inside. But I still feel the motions. It isn’t enough. It’s ineffective and destructive. And I saw the microphone beside the TV, and it dawned to me.
I now release my emotions or stress by singing. I don’t care if you hate my voice, if I don’t hit the notes, if my voice is flat. I just want to sing, and sing, and sing. And afterwards, I feel good.