I sit on my aunt's couch, surrounded by family members
from the other side of the country.

"How's high school?"
"What do you want to major in in college?"
"Can you sing us a song?"
I pause, I laugh, and I swallow my food.
This is how I avoid doing saying yes.

"Sing the song, Sara."
I tried everything I could.

Faking a cough didn't work, they would just get me water.
Faking sick didn't work, they'd just ask me to sing an easier song.

Am I disappointing my family?
Is it my fault that I am scared to sing in front of everyone?
Thoughts were running back and forth through my cloudy head,
saying "please, oh please get me out of this."

"Sing, Sara, sing!"

It's not like I had the voice of angel -
who cares, honestly?

Now, it's impossible to avoid it.
The only sounds anyone can hear is
my dad's voice and the running fountain.

Why are they forcing me to do something I don't want to do?
It's not up to me anymore.

"Fine!" I started singing all I could.
I got sympathetic hugs, and maybe some genuine claps.

Wiping tear by tear, I get up, eat a strawberry, and sit in the other room.