Does That Make Me Crazy?

It’s something that's natural to me. It happens almost everyday and it can be any hour, it doesn’t have a schedule. It’s not something I plan, it simply happens and I can’t help it, I like it. The place to gathering me and myself is my room, the only possible place for the almost null implications it brings, for example that I already flipped my lid and it’s time to visit a psychiatrist.

I do believe I have little space in my room for those long walkings of my meetings with myself, since I am never sitting in a corner for those conversations but moving all around...constantly and shake my hands, nod my head, I smile if the topic calls for it, I get overexcited or cool it off. 

The curious thing about it is that the subjects I deal with have nothing to do with the future but are facts from the past, usually. Those are things I recreate the way I would have love them to happen. I change them almost totally and I even give them some quite interesting dialogues that would have made me look like a queen, and come out of that well.

The only thing the conversations have in common is that they're things I would like to change but obviously I can’t. The past is the past and it is well right there, it’s not longer worth paying attention to it. However, I still wonder why I bother to bring it up when I should think of more productive things. Changing the past in my imagination doesn’t mean a thing.

I find it funny to see myself in those situations, because most of the time I can't help myself. I involved myself so much that even some emotions can show like being worried; the first one to appear generally, or sorrow. I do believe someone can hear me sometimes. Most times my personal dialogues reappear while I am asleep. At times like those, anyone around me is liable to listen in on what burdens my soul.

I don’t think it is bad...talking to oneself. One can realize the mistakes one do this way, the good things let undone and, the things one would like to happen, because despite the fact that those are past things usually, sometimes I bring up things that haven’t happened but I would love them to just like I describe them in my conversations. Each image, each word and each gesture I would like them to be copied by that thing called destiny so that they get to live, come to fruition.

I don’t know whether this is madness but it’s the reality. I have spoken.

xoxo,

J.Nne