Every single thing I say out loud is something I already said at least once in a scenario imagined in my head.
Since I'm lazy, if I'm around annoying people, I'm an expert at not saying stuff that could get demolished. When I say something, it's something that can't be attacked.
When people are talking and talking for too much time, but without saying anything meaningful and just for the sake of winning the argument, at a certain point I will present a conclusion that will end it all. An argument that has been replayed most likely more than once in my head. An argument perfected by the antithesis of the imaginary versions of my interlocutors.
Most of the time this is enough. If it's not enough, I may keep answering a couple of times, but after a certain point I will just accept the fact those people want to continue to talk about nothing, for the sake of talking without making any sense.
This process is not as slow as one may think. It's not about the details, but about the form and meaning. I play in my head the significant parts. I don't necessarily remember the same words my imaginary self used. I'm not even sure my imaginary self uses precise words, or if I just get the meaning of his thesis. When I know I'm ready, I go.
Even when I say something funny it usually means it made the imaginary interlocutors laugh before.
Every single moment of my life I'm vigilant. If I'm washing my hands at a place with an open door, I imagine people attacking me from my blindspots. I correct my posture in order to be able to see possible attackers.
If I sit somewere, the door has to be in my sight.
I live in a world full of imaginary people with no face who are ready to attack me. A world where I anticipate attacks, discussions, jokes and actions.