when i was young

12Mar09

i used to think losing my voice would be cool.

ok granted i’d be sickly and cough a lot and be in pain. but i’d also be cool.

mysterious. unapproachable. relying on my body movements for conversation.

everyone would all of a sudden want to talk to me. they would gather around and wonder ‘can she really not speak?!’

i would be fascinating. a traveler with the circus. i would even have my own booth with a sign outside: ‘the amazing girl with no voice. $5.00′

and maybe i would even add a few tricks to my show. for $2 dollars more, i would read people’s minds. you know, make them believe i could communicate with a different part of my body. the root. where speech starts. obviously, i would have to write it down for them on a piece of paper so they could read it later. but that could be another talent of mine. ‘the amazing girl with no voice who can read minds. $7.00′

flash forward to now, when i am somewhat grown up. or growing still. and i have in actuality lost my voice.

and just as i used to think, i am sickly, i cough a hell of a lot, and i am in pain.

cool? maybe. people do want to see or hear for themselves whether or not i really can’t talk. and when they do, it’s followed by “ooohhh”’s and “no waaaay”’s and laughter. often they even try to have a conversation with me, until i stop trying to whisper and they realize once again, that i’ve lost my voice. it’s brilliant to watch. people are seriously amazed by my lack of voice!

and with all of this attention, i should be thrilled. but i’m not. in fact, i’m pretty sad.

i’ve been thinking, what happens to voiceless people who need a break? can God hear them?

and i want to know, how does the lack of my voice in the symphony of life affect this world? does it matter?

i mean, this is serious stuff here. if i don’t laugh at a co-workers joke tomorrow morning, will it result in someone in tokoyo forgetting to put down the toilet seat? my lack of voice could seriously disorder the perfect balance of this very planet you are living on.

and i also want to say… or write rather, that my voice was a good voice. it was always there when i needed to stand up and say something. it never said no to what pleasured me. and it was just the right mezzo-soprano, not caprine, not mousy, just comfortable. i miss it. i really do.

so i say write: dear voice, if you are reading this somewhere, please come home. i took you for granted, and i sincerely regret it. i will never abuse you, or make fun of you, or sell the lack of you. i will coat you with pure goodness and gift you with the best languages of this world. i will from time to time, sing you more. and i promise to share you with other voices. but most of all dear voice, i will make you laugh more and acknowledge your due credit.

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