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. 


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