I spent the night at a friend’s house and woke up as early as she did — except I pretended to still be asleep.
She wondered around as she fulfilled her daily ritual. I was sprawled on her couch reminiscing about how dope it was to have the freedom of privacy and surrender in the space of my choosing.
Once I snapped back to reality — I was thrown into a conversation that didn’t include me. It was happening with earnest and in complete sentences.
My friend was talking to herself.
It was strange at first but then cryptically familiar as I accepted the fact that my secret past time was far from unusual.
She spoke about what she was going to eat and whether she had forgotten to fasten the back door. She wondered out loud if her boss was going to forget her laptop in the car again. She complained about her scooter and how much it would cost to get it back to form.
I was enthralled by how well she managed her one on one convo.
I tend to speak to myself when instances in my life are heightened. Or when they are just as normal as can be.
I talk about how horrible my eating habits have become since I moved to Los Angeles. I coach myself out of an impending depression. I have a hashed out dialogue about whether or not I should block a former manager from reading my stuff on Medium. I curse out the robotic interviewers who are just as bored with me as I am with them.
I talk about a lot of things alone. It’s the most natural and therapeutic way to offload to the one person who truly gets it.
I judge myself but because I know myself — I do it with caution and understanding. I can hate myself for doing stupid shit — like that time when I left my computer bag with my laptop in it at a fast food joint — that was crazy.
Thankfully I found it but even though I went into a scolding rage — I did take into consideration that I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.
Combine that with extreme hunger and well…yeah.
It used to be just in private but lately I’ve taken to conversing on the low in public.
I could be walking to the gym and suddenly be struck with the need to vocalize my moments.
I try to minimize that but I can’t make any promises. Maybe I’m on my way to finally losing my mind — who knows!
What I do know is that it’s utterly weird to hear someone else sound exactly like you.
I am comfortable with the idea of being freakishly adept at answering my own questions out loud.
I do it believing or hoping nobody else does. I do it so you don’t have to.