I Talk To Much
But that’s okay.
My parents were worried when I was two years old and I still couldn’t form coherent sentences, or even half of one. To make matters worse, I was following my two older sisters who had no trouble speaking at a young age. I also come from a big Greek family, which isn’t known for being reserved.
Eventually, my first word was my sister’s name, Dena, in anger because she wasn’t picking up my toy ball. And after that I couldn’t shut up.
I still can’t, and I find it difficult to hold in what I have to say. This usually means I interrupt someone and feel incredibly bad afterwards. Sometimes I could talk about the same movie for hours, or start a story with a ten minute backstory to it so that my friend really understands it.
I know It’s silly, but I always feel bad. But I shouldn’t be because there is a positive side to being talkative.
With my skill of creating a conversation about anything, my social interactions and first encounters are usually successful. I’m never too stressed at a party because I know I can fill awkward silences. My friends invite me too dinner to act as a buffer between their parents and their boyfriend. I’m never bothered by the workers at Lush because I love to talk to them. (The most annoying thing I have a habit of doing is ruining movies because I talk through them, mostly adding random bits of trivia about the movie over the dialogue).
I know I must annoy people. And I’m sorry. If you’re not a talker, and I know many people are not, I don’t know if you envision my head exploding or if you’re grateful to have someone who isn’t as quiet as you.
In a way I envy people who know when to stop talking. Or that you don’t need to be around people to have fun. Or that you don’t spill spoilers because you can hold it in.
But I am me. So I guess I’ll have to deal with it for now.
– Ioanna Engarhos