My Internal Dialogue

I’m lying in bed right now and about to go to sleep. Like always, my brain is flooded with thoughts. Right now I’m envisioning my final project for my film class. Some of the concepts are about internal dialogue and I was trying to figure out how to put what I wanted to say into words and then a short film. I thought, what a great thing to write a post about! Then I thought, oh fuck I forgot to write something today! So, here I am, at 11:36 PM in my underwear and a Uniqlo tee shirt, writing about how I’m always late again. What a fucking surprise! If you read books, which clearly I don't, then you have that little guy inside your head. Or maybe when you read this post you have that little guy inside your head. Or maybe when you read a billboard. Or a newspaper headline. You get it. Whenever you read, you probably have that little guy speaking. For me, it isn’t my own voice, but it isn’t someone else’s. It is my own internal dialogue. Maybe it's what I think I sound like, what I want to sound like, or who I want to listen to. It is definitely a man's voice. Maybe some of you have a baby gorilla or whale, I don’t care. To each their own, mine just happens to be a big butch masculine sexy man. I’ve always found this voice to be quite annoying. It is going all the time and only stops when I speak. Maybe that's why I speak so damn much. Sometimes it turns into a loud ringing noise or my head starts to internally itch. That's happening right now. Writing these posts is a nice way to get it out. It makes it really hard to sleep. This voice is honestly a mean person. He says everything that comes to his mind. If he feels hate, he says it. Then it is up to my discretion whether I keep it in my head or not. Sometimes I falter and let it slip out. Internal dialogue is really weird. I wish my head was clear for a day. I tell people it is my superpower. BATMAN. I would never want to get rid of it. It makes me unique. Sometimes I wish I thought of normal shit. Not kangaroos bouncing on a trampoline doing crack cocaine with Wayne Gretzky post conga line world championship semifinals and they are all barefoot, but wearing fingerless gloves. I wish I thought of stuff that moved the world forward. Or my own life forward. Taming it would be like killing a baby deer in a Disney movie. It would make everyone sad. It makes me unique, I say. It is exhausting. Sometimes when I let the thoughts out people laugh or think it is weird. Sometimes I just say shit to myself in my room. If there was a day where everyone's internal voice was let out, I would be fucked. My stomach hurts from chugging water.  Happy Wednesday you beautiful folks!