An internal monologue, also called self-talk or inner speech, is a person’s inner voice which provides a running verbal monologue of thoughts while they are conscious. It is usually tied to a person’s sense of self.
How many sentences do you utter in a day? Probably a tiny fraction of how many thoughts you have. We spend so much mental energy filtering through and censoring our thoughts, deciding what is and isn’t fit to let out into the world. Or maybe that’s just me.
As a writer, thoughts not expressed can often seem like wasted thoughts. It’s a constant conflict, manifesting profound ideas but not sharing them for fear of being judged, yet also feeling ashamed for not having the confidence to disregard potential judgement.
Sometimes I ponder how long some days can seem and yet how quickly some years go by. It’s so easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of doing things to impress or meet the expectations of others, meanwhile life is sneaking out the back.
Everyone wants acceptance, some more desperately than others. It’s funny how many young people will go on and on about how little they care about being liked, when all you have to do is check their Instagram account to see that’s a lie. The ego is a powerful part of our being, it will blow your house down if you let it. None of us are invincible, and we’re all susceptible to the wrath of our insecurities.
So many times I’ve erased pages of text I spent hours on, why? Because someone else might disagree with my worldviews or my Oxford commas?
My life is so full of abundance. I am so incredibly fortunate in so many ways. Lately I’ve met so many special people and I’ve been having such enriching and fulfilling conversations. 2019 has been many lessons learned. One thing I’ve learned is that it’s impossible to put yourself out there in the absence of vulnerability. So many worthwhile things in life are like a double-sided coin, one side good, the other bad. Embracing the bad along with the good unleashes inspiration of unreal proportions.
Standing up for and speaking out on what you believe in is not something to do for the sake of liberation; it’s a way of life. It’s not about marching around proclaiming your own declarations of truth, it’s about being a light in a dark world. It’s about lighting the way for others.
I wish I could control when this intense sense of aimless inspiration washes over me. But it comes and it goes of its own volition, and me? I’m just a vessel.