Do you hear yourself think?

As you read these words, are you hearing them in your mind? Not with your ears, but with an inner voice – your own personal narrator?

For many, this silent inner dialogue is as natural as breathing, a constant companion guiding their thoughts and decisions. But here’s a mind-bending revelation: for some people, this inner voice doesn’t exist at all.

It’s called anendophasia – a newly coined term describing the absence of inner speech. Just as some of us can’t visualize images in our mind’s eye, others experience a profound silence where many would hear their thoughts.

Now, let’s clear up a common confusion: auditory imagination is not the same as inner speech. 

Think of it this way:

Auditory imagination is like having a mental radio. Some people can tune into different stations, adjusting the volume and clarity of imagined sounds. They might be able to “play” their favorite song in their head or recreate the sound of waves crashing on a beach.

Inner speech, on the other hand, is more like a mental teleprompter. It’s the silent narrator of your thoughts, the voice that reads these words as your eyes scan them. It doesn’t necessarily have a “sound” – it’s more about the content and flow of your thoughts.

Here’s a practical example:

Imagine you’re thinking about calling your mom. If you have auditory imagination, you might be able to “hear” her distinctive laugh or the way she says your name. But your inner speech is what’s narrating the thought, “I should call Mom today.”

For those with anendophasia, that mental teleprompter might be blank.

Now, here’s a confession that might surprise you: Even as someone with full multisensory aphantasia, I find it challenging to imagine life without inner speech.

My mind’s eye might be blind, and my mind’s ear deaf, but my inner monologue? It’s the backbone of my conscious experience. I can’t “hear” my own voice in the sense of manipulating its pitch or volume. I can’t recreate the unique timbre of my sister’s voice. But I can remember and rehearse what she’s said internally; if I lost that ability, I’d feel like a fundamental part of my thinking process was missing.

This feeling of disbelief – this inability to conceive of a mind functioning without something so central to my own experience – must be similar to how many visualizers feel when they first learn about aphantasia. 

Just as they might wonder, “How can you think without mental images?”, I find myself pondering, “How can one think without inner speech?”

Because for me, this silent yet constant stream of thoughts is a main vehicle of my inner experience. It’s how I process information, make decisions, and navigate my day-to-day life. And I suspect many of you reading this might relate.

So, as you go about your day, I invite you to pay attention to your inner world. How do you experience your thoughts? Are they a constant stream of silent words, a mix of words and imagined sounds, or something entirely different?

If you couldn’t hear yourself think, would you still be you?

This isn’t just about satisfying curiosity. Understanding the diversity of inner experience can transform how we approach education, mental health, and even artificial intelligence. 

Your unique perspective could be the key to unlocking new insights.