The Real Me

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One word: Music.

It's always been about that. 

It's just what I do. I sing.

Since I was a child I was humming tunes 

And singing songs with a shell of raw talent -

A potential for so much more.

Seven years of choir classes at the same school brought me far,

Unwavering in my love for this incredible art. 

Sure, I can't play many instruments,

Even living under the shadow of

My musical genius of a brother,

But the truth is,

I find so much joy in the simple complexity of singing.

It defines me.

It gives my invisible form solid meaning.

I just take a deep breath and in a melodious trance,

Release all of the emotion that builds up within my soul 

Throughout this thing called Life.

I perform. 

I perform with a confidence 

That only surfaces when I sing. 

The sound of the music lifts my spirit and cradles me 

In a warm embrace,

Taking me away from all of the people

Who I feel are staring at my every movement throughout the day.

They see me as the quiet one,

The girl who hates speaking up in class.

They don't know about the pile of choral pieces

Scattered across my room

Or the hours I spend memorizing pitches and rhythms and dynamics 

Instead of going to social events

Like normal teenagers do.

When I am singing, my fears of judgement drift away into a far-off dream

That I can't seem to recall.

Only music.

Only bliss.

And then the song is over, and they are smiling. 

Everyone is staring at me in awe,

Confused at this confident side of me that is normally obscured from their view.

They now see that this is the real me.

Not the silent shy girl who hides from a world of faces,

But a singer. 

A choir nerd.

A girl who simply loves to sing.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

 

A girl who has found her sanctuary.

 

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