You say you hate your voice and that makes me sad.
I love your voice.
Its uniqueness is one of the first things I noticed about you.
I said I didn’t want to forget what you sound like but we both hate the phone, so we went on the first date.
You know, you actually speak in several different ways.
You’re typically soft-spoken, especially when you’re thinking about it. You speak warmly, but quietly
-like every word needs considerate care-taking throughout its delivery.
(And you’re right; they all do. Everyone else is doing it wrong.)
Other times though, your voice brings life to the party, boisterous and playful
-like you inhale charm, but exhale friendliness.
(You’d rather be goofy and kind than sultry and alluring; the paradox is that I do find that alluring.)
You have a million forms of laughter
-like you create a whole new way of bringing light into the world every day.
(Which you do, with or without audio; and I want to hear every single one of them.)
“When you sing, it brings sunshine and happiness into my heart.”
-like your need for fun so far outweighs your need to look cool that it morphs your car into a karaoke bar.
(Yes, I stole that line from a movie we just watched. And yes, I treasure each Taylor Swift and Mariah Carey song you’ve shouted at me on road trips.)
Please don’t quiet yourself. Your voice gives you words to speak yourself alive and teach me about you. I want to hear it every day. I prefer your speech to any other sound that has ever shaken the atoms of existence, even ducks quacking.