I have a weird fascination with my own voice.
I like to send voice recordings sometimes,
To friends mostly and sometimes strangers,
But often, I find myself sitting there replaying them.
Sometimes, I'm going back the next day or a couple of days later if it's still not far up the chat.
It sounds like self-obsession,
But when I was still very young, I was orphaned.
The place I went after was a scary and uncomfortable place for many years.
As a child, I used to sing lullabies to myself,
Dissociating and pretending it's the voice of my mother lulling me to sleep,
Because I was scared or sad.
So now, even as an adult, when I hear my voice, it is strangely soothing.
In a weird obscure way, somehow, it became the comfort of the mother I never had.
It's interesting how the brain works.
How it copes with the days alone in the dark.
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