The following is an excerpt from my piece “Talking to Myself, Naturally” as seen on Lady Clever:
I’ve been talking to myself a lot lately, probably because I’ve been quite sad over the last few months, and you can only burden your friends with the same old story so many times before they start ignoring your calls and opting to brunch with a more reliably chipper friend. My tolerance for myself, however, is, as one would imagine, remarkably higher. This habit, which I myself recognize as being slightly bizarre, can be blamed specifically on one thing: Living alone. If I had a roommate, I wouldn’t be crazy enough to show myself as the real lunatic I am. And if I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be experiencing these things that cause me to talk to myself in the first place. Is this what they call a Catch 22? I don’t know. Probably not. I don’t trust 50% of myself at the present moment.