Muttering

There was a time when my younger self would mutter under my breath while working on homework, brushing my teeth, or even picking out my clothes. Talking to myself became second nature—a little voice always keeping me company, guiding me through the motions of my day. No it’s not an actual voice, but it more a voicing of my thoughts. At first, it wasn’t something I did constantly, just a quirk that surfaced when I needed to focus. But over time, it became an unshakable habit, a silent stream of verbal consciousness that stitched itself into the fabric of my routine.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but I do remember the moment it became solidified. One day in class, my teacher made an offhand joke about how her aunt talks to herself because she’s the only one who truly listens to what she’s saying. For some reason, it resonated with me so much. It was as if someone had put words to my little third grader brain. I see what her aunt was talking about, because you know what, I am my own ‘best listener’.
As I grew older, this habit transformed from an occasional murmur to an almost constant narration. In high school, I found myself talking through math problems or mumbling my essays while writing them. I now where headphones and pretend I’m on the phoen in order ot be percievd as if Im on the phone but really it is just me talkin ot myself.
Whether I’m organizing my day, brainstorming ideas, or working through a challenge, I instinctively start verbalizing my thoughts. It’s not just a habit anymore—it’s a coping mechanism, a productivity tool, a way to center myself.
I often wonder if this habit has influenced my personality. It certainly plays a role in my work and creative process. It’s as if my younger self, the one who muttered through schoolwork, prepared me for a life of constant thinking, strategizing, and problem-solving. And in a way, I’m grateful for it.