But I fell in love the first time I entered a smoky hole-in-the-wall bar and took the spotlight on the gritty tile floor. So long ago...I was 13. This year makes two decades.
Even earlier, I spread blankets across the living room floor and sang into a hairbrush while I danced across the makeshift stage.
I would be lying if I said I didn't still do it, only now I have actual microphones. Proved it to everyone the other day when I posted a video of myself singing "Thank You" in the style of Alanis Morissette on my Facebook timeline.
I had some wine that night; I cringed a little the next morning listening to it. Did I consider deleting it?
Well, not really. I'll just leave it here too.
I quite honestly posted as an act of self-acceptance and self-love, two very important things I intend to share with others as much as I possibly can. Things over the past 20 or 30 years have changed a lot, including my ability to truly love and accept myself. My love of singing and performing has been constant. As has my love of writing and creating. Maybe the artistic side of me went into hiding for a while, hell-bent on figuring everything out.
But that simply sucks.
Time to emerge, whole and unafraid.
Art and helping others always were the best at helping me figure things out anyway.
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