I Talk to Myself a Lot (And Honestly? You Should Too)

I talk to myself constantly.

In the shower. On the freeway. Walking through the casino with two hours of sleep and five unresolved traumas stuffed in my pocket like mint wrappers.

Sometimes I whisper affirmations like I’m in a Hallmark commercial written by a Scorpio.
Sometimes I rehearse speeches for interviews that don’t exist yet.
Sometimes I talk to exes like they’re still listening (they’re not).
Sometimes I sing… badly… on purpose. Then I sing well. Then I forget which version is me.

And sometimes?
I just narrate my life like a Netflix documentary filmed by an emotionally unstable yet charming queer narrator who also happens to be holding a salad and wearing a glittery robe.

Why do I do it? 🪞

Because talking to yourself is magic.
Not that manifestation crap where you repeat a phrase 300 times while staring at a candle (although I’ve done that, too).
I mean real talk.
Messy. Funny. Nonsensical. Truthful. Loud. Whispered. Delusional. Divine.

You find out what you actually believe when you say it out loud.
You find out what hurts.
You find out what’s still healing.
And sometimes, when you’re really lucky,
you say something that makes you laugh
in a way no one else could’ve delivered
because no one else has lived inside your mind the way you have.

In the casino, I can’t always talk out loud.

But I mouth things.

Tiny phrases. Pep talks. Lyrics. Dealer prompts.
It’s like I’m whispering little spells into the felt.
Resetting my energy every few hands.
Some days the pit becomes a stage. Some days the stage becomes a cage.
So I talk to myself on break. In the stairwell. At the urinal.
And I hear myself — because no one else gets to rewrite this script but me.

Talking to yourself isn’t weird.

You know what’s weird? Bottling it all up.
Letting your thoughts rot in silence.
Letting society shame you into forgetting your own voice.
No, baby. Talk to yourself in the car. In the kitchen. In bed.
With love. With sarcasm. With healing. With FIRE.

Talk yourself out of that dark place.
Talk yourself into the version of you that’s coming.
Talk to the scared little kid.
Talk to the bitchy inner saboteur.
Talk to the part of you that’s still waiting for someone to say “I see you.”

I see you.
I hear you.
Now do me a favor…

Say something out loud.
Right now.
Even if it’s stupid.
Even if it’s just:
“Damn, I’m hot.”
or
“I deserve peace.”
or
“This blog post was weird but I kinda liked it.”

That voice?
It’s yours.
Protect it.
Perform it.
Give it a mic.
Give it a crown.
Give it you.

You’re the only one who’s been with you the whole time.

So yeah…
I talk to myself a lot.
And honestly?
You really should too.

💋

🍒🎰🧃🌈🫦🎲🫦🌈🧃🎰🍒

Tip me if this post gave your voice a little power back. 🕯️🔥

👇

🍒🎰🧃🌈🫦🎲🫦🌈🧃🎰🍒

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