I believe in singing in the shower
Quietness is deceiving. Whether it is the typical quietness I am acquainted with at night in my dark room or the permanent silence on the summit of Mt. Everest, the lack of noise makes me curious about the world of noise itself.
People who possess this quiet trait are also deceiving. When I think of the quiet girl next door, I wonder if she ever speaks out loud, or if she just waits for people to say things for her. Isn’t it impossible to be quiet all the time, though? In front of people, of course, it’s possible. But inner expression has to occupy some part of the soul, and for the quiet, it waits in the soul like a cheetah hunting prey—reserved one second, explosive the next.
I am no cheerleader, class clown, or actress. Speaking up is not my forte, and debating politics in government class is not part of my comfort zone. Although I typically don’t act loud, I am loud in my mind and opinionated in my thoughts. I do not allow my views to be put to waste, and my imagination never rests.
I unleash my innermost noise in only one place, one holy, sacred place where embarrassment does not exist. My sanity lies in the shower every night around 9:00. Here, I release all inner tension by pretending to be on Broadway or imagining myself as the newest Fergie. My imagination is completely released, my worries forgotten, and my fear of judgments vanished. My family makes fun of me for my shrill notes and off key version of Phantom of the Opera’s “Angel of Music,” but stopping my tradition of song would upset my individuality. Singing in the shower is my relaxation point of the day. The shower is my rest and my necessity. It is my secret garden where my important thoughts of life are delicately processed and vibrantly expressed without any hindrances.
I believe that everyone, noisy or not, needs a place to themselves, where no judgments are passed, a place to release the inner soul, to be completely real. Singing in the shower provides me with my chance to be whoever I want to be. My imagination gallivants here, and my innermost urgencies to belt across the world and to scream at my frustrations and to leap with joy are satisfied by song. My shower liberates me from feeling the need to express all my opinions to the noisy, competitive world, because I am confident that through my sacred place, my reserved world will always be able to step into the noise of action and aggression.
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