I admit it: I narrate my life in my head. Sometimes in the first person. Sometimes in the third.

The walls of the underpass were covered with graffiti. Blue and red and black letters stand out on whitewash and I have to lengthen my stride to step over broken glass today. I ignore the writing on the wall and barely notice the sound of the train overhead as I hurry through the cold to work today. As I emerge into the daylight, I can hear the silly voice of the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland in my head: “Late, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!”

I’m not a narcissist, am I?

I just love to arrange life into words, that’s all. Anyone else out there do this?