Why can’t I sleep at night?
The sooner I go to bed, the sooner I’ll have to wake up.
Why do I cry in any movie that gets even slightly emotional?
I get emotionally attached easily. My parents say my heart is too big.
Why does public speaking make me want to fake my own death to get out of it?
All those eyes…What are they thinking? What if I mess up? Everyone will see.
Why do I dance around the kitchen while I do the dishes?
I’m home in my own space. No judgement is there. A girl has to let loose sometimes.
Why do my toes and ankles pop with every step?
That’s why they call me “Snap, Crackle, Pop.” It keeps me from being able to be a sneaky teenager.
Why does banging on some piano keys bring me such an emotional release?
The piano is my outlet.
Why is any one thing someone’s way to liberate withheld feelings?
Why don’t all people take off their shoes to play the piano? Why do I?
I hate walking around with shoes on, so at home I always have my shoes off when I sit down to play.
Now it’s just a habit. My piano teacher giggles every time I kick them off at recitals.
Why can’t I keep myself from singing along to songs I know?
I know I don’t have a great voice, but when the beat starts to carry me and triggers those words in my memory, I can’t stop them from leaping from my lips.
Why did it take so long for me to start figuring out who I am?
In a world full of choices, rules, and people to make proud, I didn’t want to mess up.
I was far too consumed with other people’s opinions. Once I realized that I only had to make myself and my God happy, I began discovering myself.
Why do people judge each other?
Everyone is so different.
Everyone has their own opinions, talents, and weird quirks even if they don’t admit to it.
So that, my friend, is the million dollar question.
The sooner I go to bed, the sooner I’ll have to wake up.
Why do I cry in any movie that gets even slightly emotional?
I get emotionally attached easily. My parents say my heart is too big.
Why does public speaking make me want to fake my own death to get out of it?
All those eyes…What are they thinking? What if I mess up? Everyone will see.
Why do I dance around the kitchen while I do the dishes?
I’m home in my own space. No judgement is there. A girl has to let loose sometimes.
Why do my toes and ankles pop with every step?
That’s why they call me “Snap, Crackle, Pop.” It keeps me from being able to be a sneaky teenager.
Why does banging on some piano keys bring me such an emotional release?
The piano is my outlet.
Why is any one thing someone’s way to liberate withheld feelings?
Why don’t all people take off their shoes to play the piano? Why do I?
I hate walking around with shoes on, so at home I always have my shoes off when I sit down to play.
Now it’s just a habit. My piano teacher giggles every time I kick them off at recitals.
Why can’t I keep myself from singing along to songs I know?
I know I don’t have a great voice, but when the beat starts to carry me and triggers those words in my memory, I can’t stop them from leaping from my lips.
Why did it take so long for me to start figuring out who I am?
In a world full of choices, rules, and people to make proud, I didn’t want to mess up.
I was far too consumed with other people’s opinions. Once I realized that I only had to make myself and my God happy, I began discovering myself.
Why do people judge each other?
Everyone is so different.
Everyone has their own opinions, talents, and weird quirks even if they don’t admit to it.
So that, my friend, is the million dollar question.