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Talking to myself

I was in the car with Noa in Israel (see the Travel Blog a couple of weeks ago) and she started muttering to herself in Hebrew. It turns out she was trying to work out the best directions to get somewhere and asked if I didn’t talk to myself on occasion when I was working things out in my head.

Well, see, I used to. But I’m an obstinate bastard and the arguments I kept having always left me with as bad taste in my mouth. I always had to be right and get the last word in, and when you’re arguing with yourself that’s kind of inconvenient. Plus, I’m a sore loser and I never seemed to come out on the winning side.

I’d use every trick in the book to win the arguments. I’d lie, cheat and insult myself to the point where I just fell out with me. To be honest I’ve not spoken to I for a good few months now and it’s getting a bit awkward as I keep bumping into me. I’m sure people are starting to notice.

Anyway, I have to be off. I’m looking over my shoulder at what I’m typing again and I fucking hate when people do that.

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