“Talking In Circles”

I like tea. All types, all brands, all brews. If I’m out shopping and I see something I haven’t tried yet, I have to buy it. My favourite is Jasmine Green, but I mostly drink English Breakfast. I tell people I have two sugars, but I secretly want three. Whatever is going on, tea makes me feel better. If I’m tired I make tea, if I’m ill I make tea, if I’m sad I make tea, if I’m bored I make tea and if there’s an awkward silence in conversation, I make tea.

I like to talk. I’ll talk about anything with anybody. I’m not afraid to make small talk with strangers, or have a deep debate with anyone with a point to make. I like mindless chatter. I like eloquent discourse. Stupid or intelligent. Funny or serious. Speaking or listening. The flow of conversation and the use of words is like second nature to me. I will listen to another’s problems with interest and compassion, and if I’m able, I will offer up advice. I don’t like to switch situations. I’ll tell people of my silly problems, but not my important ones.

I don’t like silence. Silence makes me uncomfortable. When there is no sound, and I’m sat alone in my empty flat, I find myself thinking just a little too hard, and becoming afraid of the dark corners of my mind. I do like peace and quiet, however. I don’t need to hear incessant bustle to be at peace; the sound of the wind, the ocean, the rain on my window are all types of quietness that I enjoy, but utter and complete silence terrifies me.

I like music. Music is beauty; pure and simple. There is very little music I can’t find enjoyment in, and unlike so many, I don’t have any specific genres that I stick to. You name it, I’ll listen. Of course, there are specific songs I don’t really like, and even certain singers, but I will always listen. I have very little musical talent, as much as I’d like to learn, and so I have massive respect for people who can play.

I like to sing. I sing all the time, and it makes me happy. I expect I sound awful, but it’s the only instrument at my disposal, and even when I mess up notes, it makes me laugh. When I can’t sing, I hum, and when I can’t hum, I find small ways to dance. Even if all I can do is tap my foot or my fingers because I’m on a bus, I will. I can’t whistle.

I don’t like whistling. I don’t know why, really, but somehow the sound irritates me. When I hear someone whistling, I become annoyed, and quite quickly, too. I don’t suppose I’ll ever really know the cause, but somehow I feel like it’s the most artificial noise I’ve ever heard. It’s fake happiness, or at least, that’s how I interpret it on a subconscious level.

I like to be happy. Laughter is good for the soul, and I will go out of my way to find something funny in a normal situation, to the point where I very rarely take anything too seriously anymore. That particular mentality has got me into trouble on more than one occasion, mostly for laughing at what is deemed ‘an inappropriate moment’ and being fully incapable of suppressing it. Many people I know consider this to be my worst habit, but I disagree. Can you think of any feeling better in the world than wanting to laugh so badly that you just can’t contain it? I can’t. I don’t laugh at everything; I do have some morals, I promise, but there is so much blatant stupidity in the world, I feel that if I don’t laugh, I just might cry.

I don’t like to cry. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable, which in turn makes me angry. It was never acceptable to cry when I was a child, and it was never acceptable to talk about all the bad things that happened back then. I’ve carried this with me into adulthood, and I expect it will stay with me until I die. Don’t cry. Crying is for babies. Forget it happened. Move on. Don’t dwell on the past. You can’t do anything about it. Don’t cry. It could be worse. Have some tea, you’ll feel better.

I like tea.

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