On Thursday, I was driving in wall to wall traffic to work. Instead of listening to the boring radio in the morning, I decided to instead entertain myself by having a nice little conversation…with myself. I told jokes and screamed out the punch line. I gossiped about a few of the fools I would encounter at work. I even told a ten minute cleverly contrived story to myself, which consisted of a ghost, a flying cookie and a purple chicken (don’t you wish you were in the car with me?). I was having fun!
All of a sudden, I turned and saw this unnaturally perfect couple starring straight into my Toyota Corolla. Apparently, I hadn’t rolled up my windows while telling my adventurous story and the nosy couple had heard the entire thing. It was obvious that the couple felt sorry for me. I can’t possibly understand why.
So I must ask, why does the world act like those who talk to themselves should be committed to a mental institution? What is so wrong with talking to yourself? I happened to like myself very much and find my conversations with myself intellectually stimulating. No one can make me laugh like I can! If I am my only audience, then I don’t have to worry about offending anyone! And, if I tell a bad joke, then I don’t have to worry about being booed.
To some I may sound crazy and trust me, I totally agree that I have a few screws loose in my lopsided head. But I would probably be even loonier if I didn’t talk to myself. I cannot be the only person in the world who talks to themselves. I just may be the only person who admits it.
No comments:
Post a Comment