The confessions of a public speaker

Public speaking the art where your voice esteemes attention, understanding and indulgence. The each second on the podium where all eyes just anticipate you, where you words trail the wind and when you hold complete sway. The moments on the stage where you derive divine confidence, and without a check seem legendary.Each minute has been rihghtly lived to the fullest and no heartbeat seems to be inconsequential.

The advantages of having a handful of interests is that every single one of them occupies a propinquity to your heart.The loss of either one will prove to be a major breakdown in the functioning of your creative life. I have been a public speaker as far as my memory permits me to remember.A stickler for being a speaker that commands centre of attention. The fact that whether my voice holds a power or strength, or a casual eccentricity suited for varied events is still a matter of distress supported by versatile opinions. The proclaimation with absolute certainity is that I am hopelessly in love with debates, declamations, just a minute , speeches, reporting, narrations and story- telling.

Ironically I always found looking in the depth of eyes of a thousands people a drastically simple task rather than speaking with one person and holding their gaze. A one to one conversation always seems to be more petrifying and dreadful to me rather than a huge audience willing to hear you to do a fundamental task called speaking and expressing your opinions.Maybe I am an invention of social awkwardnes, though I’m still in denial.

Why this untangled peculiarity exists in my behaviour is a mystery even to my presumably detective mind. I’ve always feared a higher frequency of judgement being passed in one to one talk – the manner in which you dress, the reputation you hold, the need to speak in harmony with an individual’s interest and beliefs, etc. Although most of these factors hold true even for a larger audience yet pleasing a large crowd with no close promixity to any individual seems to be a menial tasks then being in good graces of a single person at every single time.Might be due to the fact, that you are mostly willing to propose the right, and although what might be right can even tend to be a cosmic question in the void but everyone mostly has similar ideas to arrive at the destination which is called being right.

Small talk always made me anxious and awkward. I seemed to gather confidence in a hall full of intellectuals but never quite enough in an group of girls my own age. Maybe it’s due the prospect that when I am talking to girls akin myself I strive to be accepted; while when I public speak it is my audience who in that particular moment must try to understand and be on the same page as myself, even when they most strongly are averse to my views. For in those moments it is their duty to be willing to listen after I spent a substantial fraction of time analysing them and trying to come up with something for them while remaining true to my own morals.The job of  being a listener can be en even more difficult path than being a speaker.

As strange as it might seem I prefer being a platonic part of the lives of thousands of people, and solve their problems than being an integral part of just one’s life and working through the intricacy of their heart and brain trying to decipher their day to day lives. Attribute it to my weirdness , these confessions are the work of my candour.

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