When a singer doesn’t sing

She feels as if the enemy is covering her mouth and not only can she not speak but she can barely breathe. When she doesn’t sing, she feels as if a part of her soul vanishes and goes where unborn lives remain. The words that were meant to be sung remain in silence waiting for vocal chords to meet them halfway. When she doesn’t sing she becomes a disabler between herself and others. She’ll never know who could have listened if she would have sung. The voice isn’t even hers, but given to her as a gift. When she doesn’t sing, she’s selfish. She’s the kid no one likes that won’t share any of the yummy candy with the other kids. When she doesn’t sing, time escapes her instead of remaining in the place where the song becomes her and faces instantly recognize the present. When a singer doesn’t sing, she’s halfway home, in between dreams.

I wonder why I don’t sing out loud every day of my life. I wonder why I give priority to an endless amount of activities instead of knowing what not singing does to a singer. We forget how the uttered song is the matchmaker between the inevitable chemistry between lyrics and melody. Yes, many blessed ones sing all the time. Some of them sing for fame and fortune, others sing for the passion and many others sing without knowing why. I don’t sing. I don’t care how, when or where but if I don’t sing soon…the last part of my soul will find its way to the darkest place where dreams are lost.

Survival is brutal and gets in the way of doing what we love more often than not. But if we do what we don’t love, are we really surviving? Is that truly living? I don’t think so. Obstacles feel stronger than the clearance of the path. Why is this? I guess if we don’t have the struggles, we take it for granted. If we don’t stop singing, we never know how much we love it. The artist that succeeds easily might get it all; but will she ever know what all of it is?  No. When I sing I want to feel alive but more importantly I want to connect to those that know. Dreams change and it’s acceptable. But what we love to do is quite obvious. It doesn’t matter why we do it as long as we do it. It does not have to be all or nothing. Being a black and white girl myself I realize how the gray can be quite helpful. Sharing your voice sometimes is always better than never. And always is better than sometimes but never amounts to nothing in the end.

So if you’re a singer, sing. If you’re a painter, paint. If you’re a writer, write. Believe you me…I don’t know how. I’m in the process of trying to balance the surviving and the living. I admire those who do it. I deeply hope to join them soon. Because when I don’t sing or write…I’m not me and I love me. I miss me. I hope I get to be myself again soon, quite soon.

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