"David is Chatty"

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When I was in elementary school, my report cards each semester would always look similar. They’d be adorned with circles and triangles (because children that age don’t get A’s and B’s) to indicate my standing in any subject matter. More importantly, there would always be a note or two from the teacher at the bottom. I think that many kids would get notes like, “Jenny is great to have in class and excels in science.” Or “Rassim should focus more on reading and spelling next semester.” My report card almost always had the same comment, regardless of my grade. “David is chatty.” 

For as long as I can remember, I have been a talker. Don’t believe me? Just ask my mom! I’m sure Sandy would certainly back this up. I have always had the gift of gap. 

(Or is it the gift of gab? Gift of gap, because I can fill the gap with words. Or the gift of gab because I can talk? Like gabbing. I refuse to look this up.) 

It wasn’t just that I could talk, though. No. I also wanted to talk. I wanted to entertain and use any moment possible to strike up a conversation. I was the boy that would slam my pencil down when completing an assignment to make sure everyone knew that I was done. Then, I’d start talking with my neighbors, cracking jokes, and putting on a little show. Even if they were still working, I’d start at it. I was a joke-cracking, attention-seeking, know-it-all kid with a brain going too fast for anyone to keep up. 

David is chatty. 

Talking has always been something natural to me, and when I envision the “real me” (as one might often do on journeys of self-improvement), he is carefree with this verbosity. He celebrates it and allows people to receive it as they will. He is not unaware of himself, rambling on and on and on without engagement, but he is nonjudgmental of the trait that is as natural to him as breathing. 

Lately, though, I’ve been quite judgmental. After stretches of speaking (or, as many might call it - having a conversation), I often catch myself wishing I’d not spoken at all. I cling onto random moments and ultimately think, “I should have just stayed quiet.” Even on nights where the conversation seems to flow freely and with joy, I often apologize to my friends and family for talking too much.

These days, there is a sort-of muzzle on that naturally Chatty-David.

I’m not sure where it came from, but I’d like to take it off. 

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