That said, I don't intend for the following to be in a VN (sidenote: This is the beginning of a
Sometimes thinking about my life makes me sad. Like the fact that I can’t write like anyone else. My writing just becomes a puddle of feelings that just drip out erratically. My writing aside, I can’t talk properly. If my words were a puddle, they would drip out even slower than my writing would. All my good friends are very talkative. My favorite conversations are when they spill out their entire life story and I just listen to them. It makes me happy inside.
I could go on and on about my shortcomings. And I think I will because there’s no one to tell me I can’t. But only for a little longer. In case you were wondering. Although I really hope no one will read this because it’ll embarrass me a lot. A lot. Okay enough with that. No one’s going to read this. I’ll just tell myself that over and over until I believe it.
Anyway, my shortcomings. There are too many. I can’t cook. People think because I’m so quiet I can cook. No offense to them, but that is a ridiculous assumption. Also I can’t get A’s. I am just incapable of getting any grade above a B+. It’s really sad. Another thing: I can’t sing. I am in choir at school, my one extracurricular activity that motivates me to go to school each day. I honestly have no idea how I got in. They must have been desperate.
When I sing, I sound like… well that’s just it. I don’t sound like anything. I make no sound. My voice doesn’t work. Not that it works at all. No one has any proof that it does. In fact, I don’t remember what my voice sounds like myself. Now I think you can see that my life is really sad. Wait why am I talking to myself? This is really sad. I want to cry. I need to write about something that isn’t going to make me cry.
“Hey, Ann! Your father and I are going to the market, okay?” my mom calls.
I don’t have any faith in my yelling, so I go down and nod at her.
Ann is my name. I think it’s really boring, but I respect my parents so much that I don’t mind that they decided to name me Ann. Although I wish our last name wasn’t Smith. Ann Smith. I feel like the most boring person in the world. Maybe because I am.
I look out all the windows. Yes! Nobody here. I turn up my favorite song, Flightless Bird. Flightless Bird, American Mouth (full title) is a song they play in the movie Twilight, so I try not to affiliate myself with it too much because my friends don’t like that movie. But I’m in love with the song; I can’t help myself. The singer’s voice is so calm, and… well, I’m afraid to admit it, but knowing no one will read this I guess I’ll say it. Initiate flashback mode.
One day when I went to buy groceries for my parents, I saw a guy I knew from school. He was always quiet (but not half as quiet as I am), but he was there in the corner of the park, strumming on his guitar. And he was singing. It was the loveliest thing I’ve ever heard. I won’t ever tell anyone, but now I have the hugest crush on him. Even though we don’t talk and I don’t think he even knows I exist.
Ending flashback mode. Even though Flightless Bird is supposed to make me happy, I still feel like crying. Anyway, he was singing Flightless Bird, if that clears up anything. His voice is so calm and sweet, and… okay. I’m going to be sick if I ever decide to read this again. I’m sorry, future self. URGH I’m so weird!!!
I sit at the computer, sighing. ← This is an accurate statement of my life.
Wait… there’s an instrumental version of Flightless Bird?!??! Why haven’t I stumbled upon this before?!?! Darn you, YouTube suggestions! Why am I blaming an inanimate object on my computer screen? I don’t know.
I click it, and sure enough, it starts playing it. YESSSSS… I clear my throat. “♪HAVE I FOUND YOOUUUUUUUU~ FLIIIGHTLESSSS BI-IRD….♪”
Soon the song is over, and I’m speechless. Did I really… just… sing that? I really belted that at the top of my lungs?!?! In a panic, I rush over to the windows and sink to the floor, relieved that my neighbors aren’t telling me to shut up. I put my hands over my throat, amazed. I… I have a voice… oh my gosh… I have a voice… I run to the mirror to make sure it’s me and not some other person whose body I’ve taken over. No, same frizzy brown hair, same dull brown eyes. It’s me. And I just sung. This is amazing.