When I don’t speak for an extended period of time, it feels like I’m sinking into my own little pocket of time and space. I still interact with things around me, the chair, the car, the sink, but not speaking somehow holds more power than my movements and actions. In this case, the actions are louder than words, but the silence deafens the action. And then rock beats scissors.
I have a theory. I don’t talk when I first wake up, and since I’ve been waking up early for work a lot lately, I say nothing, I just breathe and occasionally grunt. I associate needing energy for things like communication and breaking the silence that has taken hold of my world. This is assuming that I don’t talk in my sleep. If I do, then my theory still stands. Why? Fuck you, that’s why.
I only know it requires energy for talking because my dad will call me sometimes while I’m still sleeping and the sounds that come out of my mouth can’t really be called words. Incoherent mumbling, sure, but not words per say. And then he gets mad at me for making gibberish sounds. Come on dad! I’m till asleep, just assume I said “good morning” and tell me why you called.
I mostly enjoy not talking for long periods of time because when I talk to myself I say some crazy shit. Crazy as in I have no idea why I said I even though I am the very person who said it! Very frightening stuff if you’re me and your parents walk in while you’re reciting a song about potato penises to yourself because there’s no good television at 3pm. Eastern Standard. I think, whatever northern Virginia is. Also I’m not wearing pants in this scenario.
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