Tennis is the sport in which you talk to yourself. No athletes talk to themselves like tennis players. Pitchers, golfers, goalkeepers, they mutter to themselves, of course, but tennis players talk to themselves – and answer. In the heat of a match, tennis players look like lunatics in a public square, ranting and swearing and conducting Lincoln-Douglas debates with their alter egos. Why? Because tennis is so damned lonely.

-Andre Agassi

While I may not be a tennis player,

or anyone as great

to warrant such a trait.

Yet, I am human nonetheless

And blood flows in my veins too

So does imagination in my brain

I talk to myself without restraaain!

Now I know it is a fairly common thing to do- a human mind has close to 5,000 thoughts (false speculative stat) in a day and talking to oneself is only natural. (Why then should I make a personal post about it, and have a tone that says I am proud of this trait of mine) So, in order to give you a picture of how my condition is different I’d give you a hypothetical scene.

-Imagine your house is on the ground floor of a building. And, it’s that time of the day when you are having your evening tea and looking on the road. Several human beings prop up in the range of your vision.

Two young students pass by talking to each other. They are coming back from the tuitions and are discussing mundane topics like WWE or Pokemon. After that, a man passes by on a bicycle with a bundle of clothes on his carrier. His mind is overpowered by the effort that he is required to put in order to keep the pedals of his cycle moving. It is here, that our hero makes the entry and like a lion he is alone. He has an intense face halfway through the road. 

But, out of nowhere- this man with intense face soon breaks into a smile, and starts muttering something to himself. A few steps later, he has started to laugh and a few more steps later he has started to run. While the students and the bicycle man, just passed by your vision not interrupting your thoughts, but this man- this man has captured your attention by his strangeness. “Mad fellow”, you think to yourself. 

I don’t just smile, always. At times, I feel ashamed and choke internally. At other times, I get jitters of fear that makes shivers run down my spine. But, somehow it’s only the muttering and the smile that gets noticed. (And, that people point out.)

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