Thursday, August 10, 2006
Of Life, Love and Tomoyo Syndromes.
Spent a whole 2 hours pacing in a state of undress behind closed doors in my room. Pacing, thinking, talking aloud to myself.
Even when I was alone, I don't usually speak either. So last night was special, in a way. Talking to myself was strangely liberating, especially since it was aloud.
It was odd hearing myself. I sounded...different. Very different. I sounded very unlike my usual speaking voice when in public. I sounded more...confident? More attitude? Witty, sarcastic, Nagi-like in a sense. o__o
Did that make sense? I don't know. But hearing myself speak in a distinctly foreign accent, like the way I sound to myself in my own head, was odd. It was kinda like American/British and looping into some other weird accents.
But I liked it. I don't know. It sounded real. Like for once, I was speaking with my own voice, talking about my own very real insecurities, even if there wasn't anyone else around to listen to it. But it was a start. It felt...like me. It felt real, staring into the whirring fan and speaking to it like it was a real person. Shocking, disgustingly real.
Or perhaps 1am was a bad time to do these things. I just couldn't sleep, like I was on a buzz on something. Just kept pacing, and I started to strip halfway through, cos there wasn't anyone else to see anyway. So there I was, holding a conversation with myself as an audience, gesticulating, explaining, theorizing...being myself.
Sucks to be me sometimes.
]
Spent a whole 2 hours pacing in a state of undress behind closed doors in my room. Pacing, thinking, talking aloud to myself.
Even when I was alone, I don't usually speak either. So last night was special, in a way. Talking to myself was strangely liberating, especially since it was aloud.
It was odd hearing myself. I sounded...different. Very different. I sounded very unlike my usual speaking voice when in public. I sounded more...confident? More attitude? Witty, sarcastic, Nagi-like in a sense. o__o
Did that make sense? I don't know. But hearing myself speak in a distinctly foreign accent, like the way I sound to myself in my own head, was odd. It was kinda like American/British and looping into some other weird accents.
But I liked it. I don't know. It sounded real. Like for once, I was speaking with my own voice, talking about my own very real insecurities, even if there wasn't anyone else around to listen to it. But it was a start. It felt...like me. It felt real, staring into the whirring fan and speaking to it like it was a real person. Shocking, disgustingly real.
Or perhaps 1am was a bad time to do these things. I just couldn't sleep, like I was on a buzz on something. Just kept pacing, and I started to strip halfway through, cos there wasn't anyone else to see anyway. So there I was, holding a conversation with myself as an audience, gesticulating, explaining, theorizing...being myself.
Sucks to be me sometimes.
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