"You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear." ~Oscar WildeI sing in public. I sing in the shower. I sing with friends. I sing in Side by Side.
I sing to make people happy. I sing the song of the naive idealist. I sing the song of the hopeless romantic, with birds chirping and laughter ringing. I sing the song of the overprotective friend that feels just a little too motherly for the people he cares about. I sing the song of the measured optimist, where people give the benefit of the doubt and couples actually do live happily ever afters but only because they talk through their problems.
I sing for self-preservation. I sing the song of vulnerability. I sing the song of a broken family, and I sing the song of insecurity as I try to salvage its remains. It contains the melancholy melody of the unwanted, and its variations include that of the unwanted twin brother and the unwanted son.
I sing and sing and sing and sing and hope that some people, no matter how few, will hear my song, tell me to turn up the sound, and listen to every last second of every last note, even if sometimes my song is four tied whole notes and only as interesting as the cello part of Pachelbel's Canon, and maybe find that one person that will start to harmonize with my song, and it will sound so good that, as wonderful and classic as my original might have been, the duet cover is a far greater hit.
I sing so that in due time my song will strike a chord with that someone, something about the song I choose or timbre of my voice or the look in my eyes as the notes fall out of my mouth or the purpose with which I sing. They'll stop where they're going and bike alongside me and tell me they like my song and want to hear more, and I'll stop and listen to their song. Or maybe it'll happen the other way around, I don't know.
But right now, I feel like I already did find someone who fervently, enthusiastically sang with me. Together, we recorded our song, and I absolutely loved it, and for 9 months and 21 days I listened to it, and then I accidentally deleted the track. So for now, I sing the song of the broken-hearted.
