Foreword

  We’ve all been there: our hearts pounding, our nostrils flared, our face on fire, and our knuckles white against the steering wheel as we think about the audacity of this person that has angered us. But then, after a minute or so of fuming, we remember that this person hasn’t actually done anything to us. We got here solely on the made-up conversation we were imagining. Then, inevitably, the imagined conversation either falls far short of our fury, or, worse yet, doesn’t happen at all. What are we supposed to do with all of this anger we’ve accumulated? What do we do with the thoughts we had lined up to fire at these people should they step one imaginary toe out of line?

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  As someone who has had many of these conversations over the years, I’ve often found myself wishing I had the opportunity to use my imagined arguments, sometimes to the point of instigating the argument myself. As you can imagine, this has not usually worked out well for me.

  But as I’ve been writing, I’ve discovered that these imaginary conversations may not need to go to waste anymore. Thus, Conversations with Myself, a collection of short stories composed of wasted anger and unnecessary stress.

  So, here they are, the conversations I wished I’d had–and the ones I’m glad I didn’t.