Voices from Within

Reading personal writings on the internet, by someone unknown (as in: never-seen, never-heard) tends to elicit from my active imagination an invented voice. For example, the 'voice' of one female blogger I read is subdued, with a gentle tone, some inflection, altogether uniform and without any hesitation or impediment whatsoever. It's totally strange that I do this, of course, but I can't seem to read such a thing without somehow hearing it spoken in my head. I can't ever say I hear the likes when reading technical jargon, like a catalogue, or a news page, or whatever. It only seems to happen with personal journals, blogs, writings, and poems, those things which I know a person has put their soul into. Teachers say, "Read quietly to yourself." So, perhaps, after more decades than I care to count, I do indeed do that in such a way as to hear myself, or hear whomever/whatever. It's all rather weird, actually, but I am sure I don't hear voices in my head in the psychiatric sense (at least they tell me I don't). But I do have an excessive amount of WWW40 sloshing around in my melancholic melon (unless they are seed thoughts). That's why my picture is on its side, to drain it all out. By now it has probably dripped right down into the back your screen and drained into keyboard to keep your coffee stains, toast crumbs, deleted letters, navel lint, escaped nose hairs and dermatological detritus in good company. Now try reading that without a voice, or shaking your head in bewilderment.