When leaving an audio message for a friend, one must realize that depending on the recipient, and the content, you may as well be ripping out pages of a personal journal and handing them over.
It doesn’t always have to be this way, mind you. You can report on the banalities of your day and add a few succinct, comical asides. Half the audio might even be you redirecting your child or pet. It can contain the musings of all your do-gooding or your latest efforts at work, and that will be a well-received audio.
But the best audios are often ripe with personal reflections. Vulnerabilities. A well-placed realization thrown in the mix. Around the juicy contents are niceties, to be sure. You must always consider the recipient’s life and their state when sending such information.
An Audio for My Sister Who Is No Longer Around:
You can’t actually listen to this, but I’ll send it anyway. Last night I was trying to fall asleep with detest for my bedroom, then just as quickly, I warmed up to it. The uneven curtains, the closet with one missing door, paint peeling on my vanity. A complete lack of interest in renovation and home improvements (mom always renovated after a death) follows me from place to place.
You weren’t like me. Your kitchen was a dream. Every piece of furniture made a statement. I remember marveling at the tile in your bathroom, the ostentatious art hanging over your fireplace. The way you effortlessly curated a space, made it look like it came straight out of Restoration Hardware.
Our differences didn’t stop there, but I worked hard to pretend we had none when we spoke. A failure of my fawning features. I’m sorry for that. I don’t intentionally set out to be deceptive, just agreeable. I pretended I wanted to be like you, but my blood is too contrarian for Pinterest boards or old money aesthetics.
Sometimes I miss you. Sometimes I’m angry with you. Like today. But these feelings oscillate. I dream that I scream in your face. I dream that we fall off a cliff in a car together, and it’s your fault. And all the way down I think: I can’t believe I let my sister drive me off a cliff while you laugh hysterically. Your laugh. Always a room stealer.
I am closer to our other two sisters now. Not that I never was before, it’s just that I know I need them. It’s not without its own set of complications. Wouldn’t you know, I still perform happiness? It’s my most compelling performance yet.
I suspect (sometimes) I need drugs, but I know today it’s just the PMDD talking. Just like my mood when I hated my bedroom, these feelings will shift.
(Daily Writing 103)