Theory about voice changing.
Can a person speak in different voices?
Is it normal to talk in two different voices?
This was my search history for the day. I only noticed it later, when I got home and sat on my bed, tapping through Instagram, then WhatsApp, then a half-open browser tab I didn’t remember opening, while absentmindedly testing sounds with my throat.
The reason started earlier, on my way back from work.
I had stopped at the supermarket near my building to pick up a few things – instant noodles, milk, bread, tissues, and whatever people buy when they want their lives to look functional.
I filled a basket and stood in line, half-listening to the checkout beeps, half-thinking about how tired I was.
That’s when my phone rang.
It was my coworker. She sounded irritated, but tried not to show it. She asked if I had taken her charger by mistake after borrowing it earlier.
“No,” I said immediately. My voice was low, flat, practical. “I left it on your desk when you weren’t there.”
She paused, then said okay, and hung up.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and stepped forward. The checkout lady looked up at me.
“Hi,” I said.
Something changed.
My voice lifted. Softened. Became rounder at the edges. My shoulders straightened. My face rearranged itself into something agreeable. It happened so fast I almost missed it, like a switch flicked somewhere behind my ribs.
I heard myself and thought, that’s not the same voice.
The realization landed badly. Did she notice? Was the change obvious? Did it sound fake?
I suddenly became aware of everything: How I was standing, the way I held my basket, the items inside it, especially the out-of-season strawberries. I felt exposed, as if the groceries were explaining something about me.
Then, before the cashier could reach for my basket, someone stepped beside me.
It was my neighbor. The one whose crying I once overhead through the walls. The one I had never spoken to.
She looked rushed and tired. She glanced at my basket and then at hers, she only had two items.
“Sorry,” she said quietly, “I’m in a hurry. Would you mind if I- “?
She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to.
Of course, I nodded. Of course, I stepped back. Of course, I let her go first.
What I wondered wasn’t whether I should let her pass. It was which voice I was supposed to use with her.
Was there a third one? A more neutral tone, perhaps? Something meant for neighbors?
She didn’t seem to recognize me. Maybe she really didn’t. Maybe I was just a shadow to her. She paid quickly, turned slightly, and said, “Thank you.”
I smiled. Polite. Didn’t answer.
I wasn’t sure which voice would come out if I did.
At home, I unpacked the groceries. Milk in the fridge. Strawberries on the counter, still needing to be washed. Instant noodles waiting in the plastic bag with the rest of the stuff.
The apartment was silent. No checkout beeps, no polite nods. No one waiting their turn.
I cleared my throat.
“Hi,” I said.
It came out wrong. Too soft. Too careful.
I tried again, lowering my voice the way it had sounded with my coworker.
“Hi.”
Better. Flatter. More efficient.
I stood in the kitchen, testing it. One voice, then another. Polite. Neutral. Firm. Then too firm.
I repeated the same words, changing nothing except the way it sounded.
“Sorry.”
“No problem.”
“That’s fine.”
At one point, I lost track of what I was testing.
I tried a few more. A cheerful version. A tired one. One that didn’t seem to care at all.
I stopped when it started feeling ridiculous.
Or maybe when it started feeling true.
