I believe in my own inner monologue. It is consistent yet ever-changing. I regard it as the main component of my identity, the essential puzzle piece, the essence of my being. What I mean by the words “inner monologue” is really just the perpetual cycle of my concealed motions and private thoughts. Not anything clandestine or taboo, although not all- together mundane. Just the rambling of a normal human brain, something we all have in common. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been entertained by the the idea of this kind of unspoken human nature. This first presented itself as quite a bit of egotism, as I thought, “No one uses their thoughts or imagination the way I do”. It was unfathomable to me that everyone around me, to the few friends I allowed myself to have to the man in the produce section were constantly thinking. It had to be just me. I’m the youngest in a family of four girls. My mother tells me as a baby, I was a quiet observer and as a little girl, no one quite knew what I was up to. My sisters would ask where I was. Mama would respond, “Probably off in the world of Stefi.” I intimately remember this world. It still exists today yet with much more intricacy. For me , it’s all internal. My thinking has plunged me into the depths of depression and exalted me to the heights oh happiness. There are times I am filled with and extreme and blissful confidence where I am forced to recognize the goddess within myself and other times where down to the very depths of my soul I feel the bitter sting of not good enough. When I arise in the morning I find it there: though in some way I cannot understand, this facet of my brain has been slaving away while I peacefully slept, mysteriously documenting my dreams so they may infiltrate my day. Sure, external forces like family drama, the displeasure of working, art etc can cause upheaval of any kind. But they must eternally pass through this labyrinth of introspection which is my thought pattern. I am strangely comforted by this and there is nothing I am more prideful of than my mind. It’s what makes me a classic movie lover, a liberal, Otis Redding’s biggest fan, a spiritual atheist, the crazy aunt, and the comedic sister. And even though I know the ones I fiercely love will eventually be lost to me, that my convictions my change, and my youthful exhibitionism will quietly fade, I am wholly satisfied knowing that this psyche of mine will be my faithful companion until the day I die.
So, maybe one afternoon, I’ll be driving under the warm Richmond sun, and instead of hearing these words in my head, they will be projected outwards across radio waves for everyone to hear. ” This is NPR. National Public Radio. I’m Stefi C–.
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