The voice that speaks is no longer the one inside my head.
Instead, it's the way I'd dreamed it'd be:
Soft and low,
Gravelly but controlled.
The voice inside my head is no longer the one heard.
When I speak there's confidence,
Something previously unobtainable.
When I think about what I sound like,
The voice in my head still squeaks.
When I hear my voice in recordings,
It's startling to hear it so low.
It creates a strange disconnect from the me I've known and the me now.