echo Have you ever heard of a condition called ‘anendophasia’? It’s where someone doesn’t think with an inner voice. Sometimes I wonder how that feels, because the voice in my head is loud—it talks, mocks, overthinks, and occasionally spirals. Most days, it’s like a constant narrative in my head that I cannot shut off.
There are moments when it stops, relaxes, like it finally found that bottle of chill pills amidst the mess in my brain. They don’t come often, but they’re worth remembering.
In The Crowd Alone
Social anxiety is a really funny thing. That desperate crave for human validation, and yet your mind is telling you that everyone hates you, judges you, mocks you for everything little thing you do or say.
When I see my classmates going out together and having fun in those final days before going on their separate paths. You should have tried harder in making friends 5 years ago, but now you’re not close enough to anyone to be worth inviting.
When I finally gathered up the courage to answer a question in class. But you’re the quiet kid, why are you drawing attention to yourself? Oh, look at that, you got the answer wrong, now everyone’s going to wonder how you could get such an easy question wrong.
When I finally took off that damn dress after coming home from high school prom night. You looked so weird in that. Should’ve just admitted that you wanted to wear a suit but instead you decided to be a coward.
When they’re counting heads to book taxis for a class lunch after school and skip past me even though I’m standing with everyone. You’re so irrelevant that they forgot about you. Or maybe they don’t want you to join them. Might as well just go home. They probably won’t realise you’re not there anyway.
When I’m removed from the group chat after leaving the job. You must’ve ruined your impression at some point. Maybe you should’ve done something differently. Maybe you shouldn’t have said something you said.
Why are you wearing that?
Why did you say that?
Why did you do that?
Everyone’s staring at you.
Everyone’s judging you.
It made me not want to go out much. It made me not want to invite people out. It made me not want to talk to anyone. Of course, my mind mocked me about it.
However, when the next Bookfest was announced, I somehow had the idea that I’d just go myself. I mean, why let the need of a social circle dictate my life, right? So, I took the train, headed to the convention, spent 3 hours admiring all the books on display (and bought some because why wouldn’t I), treated myself to my favourite yogurt afterwards, and went back home feeling refreshed.
That was the first time my mind let my heart guide my body. There was no social pressure or expectations from anyone. Just a girl who finally decided to take control of her social life.
Man, we really should normalise solo outings.
In the Middle of the Night
I tucked my phone into my back pocket, put my headphones over my head, and grabbed the house keys.
My mom asked where I was going. I told her I was going on a walk. She asked why; I simply said that it was a new habit I wanted to try.
But in reality, I just really needed to be somewhere quiet.
And what’s more quiet than a neighbourhood at night?
As I took my first step onto the asphalt, I took my phone out and opened Spotify. I clicked onto my playlist and pressed the circular shuffle play button. The first song that played was ‘I’m Good (Blue)’ by Bebe Rexha and David Guetta.
My favourite.
It’s almost like the world knew I needed it.
My head bobbed subtly to the music as I walked. My headphones muffled the sounds of my footsteps on the road, the neighbour’s dog barking at my presence, and one family’s television that was unnecessarily loud. The voice in my head was having its own sing along session as the songs played, so I focused on my other senses. I’d purposefully drag my heels across the rough asphalt occasionally to feel its texture; I’d take in deep breaths to appreciate the fresh night air; I’d look up to find any stars amidst the hue of black in the sky.
And the more I walk, the more I let my body relax my mind.
In Morning Stillness
It was still dark when my alarm went off. I’d been dreading waking up that early, but I needed to. Exams were nearing; with my heavy timetable and list of extracurricular work, I couldn’t muster any energy after school to study. The everyday exhaustion had made me waste these precious hours.
So, I decided to give myself extra hours.
I turned off the alarm I had set for 4 A.M., took a quick sip from my trusty water bottle, and headed to my bathroom. I carried out my usual morning bathroom routine to wake myself up before heading to my desk.
The house was completely silent—no honking cars outside, no family members awake, no social media notifications. Just peaceful silence.
There was something oddly comforting about being the only one awake. It felt like I was starting the day ahead of everyone else; the world wasn’t expecting anything from me, so there was nothing for my mind to worry about. The voice wasn’t urging me, wasn’t criticising me, wasn’t pushing me.
It was focused.
I turned on my tablet, picked up the pen, and got to work. I read through my notes, did a few questions from past papers, and even gave myself an accomplished nod when I got a question right.
I wasn’t listening to lecturers who hurriedly rushed through the syllabus. I wasn’t surrounded by peers who all looked so academically ahead compared to me. I wasn’t yelled at by the voice in my head that I was falling behind.
At that moment, my head was silent. It wasn’t a heavy silence—it was gentle.
I was taking control of the time I have by starting the day on my own terms. And while everyone was dreaming in their sleep, I was awake chasing those dreams.
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It’s hard to experience these peaceful moments nowadays. But I remind myself to actively find small moments to let my mind slow down, whether it’s by looking at raindrops on the car window, reading a few pages from a book before going to bed, or taking breaks from the overwhelming load of work.
Take a deep breath, with me if you will, and let it out slowly. Tell that neuron or voice of yours to stop running in circles—to instead work with your heart and body to create some quiet spaces for it to rest in when things get difficult.
Sometimes, amidst the relentless noise and rush of life, there are moments of stillness tucked between the chaos that is waiting for us to notice and breathe them in.
Written By: Isabelle
Edited By: Ryan
