Braindump # 1: Why talking to myself is important

This is my first piece of writing I have ever made public.

In the same light as somebody lecturing themselves as to break the seal on public speaking, I will be writing to myself. A disjointed, misandering flow controlled only it’s own will to be seen.

I lived on the streets for a while in 2011.

I wanted to experience what it was like. I had pockets full of money so most of the communication I had with people was transactional. They would look from my battered clothing to enthusiastic face, showing more curiosity than judgement. Trapped in their own politeness to ask their questions.

It took three days until I began the double pleasure of talking to myself. Firstly, I heard the words of someone who knew me well. Closer company than the stars. Secondly I could wear the rare ‘misfits ’ badge of honour: verbalising my thoughts to no-one, without surprising anyone. The people on the bottom rung are quick to use their special privledges.

So I am new at writing but also new at public speaking.

For the past six years I have been living in my own world. Feeding my thoughts with my one big obsession. These days, in adjusting myself into a ‘normal’ citizen, I sometimes miss the crazy ones. Back then I would tell everyone how we could be different, do different and see different. Now I feel a heavy secretive guilt. Vision. Strategy. Duty.

But I guess that’s the beauty of talking to yourself. You can let it out. You can confess that these thoughts exist. That this matters to you. Even if nobody hears it, it helps to bring meaning to everything else we do.

My one, constant thought:


I want to invite the world to build one with me.

I want to know if other people want to join me.

And now that has been said, I can get back to work.

Welcome to my self narrative.


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