Right before sleeping, it is the typical but not the exclusive time of the day when virtual speeches are made.
Very eloquently and smoothly, the words are improvised one after the other, pausing for moments between paragraphs, while change the look on my face to cope with upcoming paragraph, resuming again the persuasive speech.
It could go on for brief moments up to many many minutes until my point is made clear and my thoughts and emotions are fully expressed, followed by a sigh of relief.
It is not restricted to a specific mood. Unpreceeded with warning, it could in joy and grief, hopeful moments and in despair, calmness and anger, and so on.
Often in Arabic, occasionally in English.
Sometimes as rehearsals, not always.
I wished I could write them. I wished I could share them. But..once released into the mind, the motive to share them fades away.
Retrieval? Not so easily..
That is why I feel that I mourn all my lost speeches, all of them, even the ones that came out from a very different version of me than now, even the ones in the time of feeling lost and the ones when I felt found again. All of them are mourned deep inside me.
This mourning speech was about to be lost as well..but it is saved (literally!).
Dear lost speeches, please do visit me again in wakefulness and sleep, I might have the chance of saving you oneday.
Dear lost speeches, even though you are not saved, you were very meaningful and helpful. You saved me, you kept my internal voice alive. You saved me even though I was the only audience you had.
End of speech.
#self_talk
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