Comfortable in your own skin

As I sit on my couch trying to think of what to write about I stare blankly at the wall. My heads aching from a head cold and I’m feeling uninspired. But through the fog of head ache and un-inspiration I can hear my roommate pack her bags. She’s about to embark on an epic adventure. But really, it’s Brazilianly epic. As she packs, she is singing softly to some music playing lightly on her computer, not really caring how it sounds. I always feel like that’s a sign of comfort; when I start singing, not to be heard, but because I was thinking about a song and I wanted to make it into sound. That means I’m happy. It means I’m comfortable with the people I’m around. It means I’m confident in who I am in that moment.

I remember the last time I caught myself singing like that. Somehow, dishes are the most organic time for comfort singing. Maybe that’s why I’ve come to like doing dishes. Because it’s a task you can often do with other people. And often the comfort singing is very linked to the people I’m with. People that I love and trust completely. Somehow, the singing is my subconscious was of saying “You make me happy. I love you.” It’s funny how the littlest things, can mean the most.

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