I love to sing.
And I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. I sound pretty bad. Horrible, even.
When no one is home and I have a few spare minutes I sing like I’m Cassadee Pope or Reba. I sing with everything in my soul and there is nothing that compares to the happiness that comes over me. I love to sing. Anything. I make up my own songs, I record karaoke and then delete it before anyone can see how terrible I am. I sing loudly and proudly. I sing like I mean it. I love to sing.
So there it is. I’m a closet singer.