You're mid-sentence when you notice it.
A voice underneath the voice.
Not speaking to anyone. Just... running.
Describing what's happening while it happens.
Labelling feelings before they finish arriving.
There was a time before this.
As children we didn't have the words.
We couldn't zoom out or integrate. Couldn't explain.
We just felt things. Fully. Without commentary.
Somewhere along the way we learned to narrate.
To watch ourselves from a slight distance.
To describe the moment instead of being in it.
Now the voice rarely stops.
It follows us into silence.
It explains the sunset while we're watching it.
We gained language.
We lost immersion.
Somewhere along the way we hired a narrator we never asked for.
And forgot how to let him take a day off.
