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Echoes
In a room
I like to call my head.
There’s a girl
who talks to me.
Her speech is
like a steady current,
thrumming in
a coursing beat.
I’m not lone,
nor silently am I
conversing
to myself and I.
Chords of words,
singing joy and worry.
ne’er ending
spirals of thought.
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Do you have a constant internal dialogue? Because I do. I imagine her as a little me, sitting in a blank room, watching me do things. Is it good or bad? I'm not sure, but she's there. Sometimes she's my greatest friend, other times she cripples me, but no matter what, she's always there.