Anendophasia: Life Without an Inner Voice

When I first learned that some people have no inner voice, I was even more astonished than when I discovered that others live without any mental imagery.

Aphantasia—the absence of a “mind’s eye”—was already intriguing. But the idea that someone could think without words? Without the chatter, commentary, and conversation that fills my head from morning till night? That felt almost impossible.

Of course, we all see the world through our own lens. For me, the inner voice seems indistinguishable from thinking itself. It plans, debates, and occasionally nags. So what happens when it’s gone—or was never there to begin with?

Welcome to the quietly fascinating world of anendophasia—life without an inner voice.


Origins and Development of Inner Speech

The account of inner speech as internalized dialogue originates with the Russian psychologist Lev Vygotsky, who saw language as the engine of thought itself. He proposed a developmental pathway from social dialogue to private speech (children talking to themselves aloud) to fully internalized inner speech (Vygotsky, 1934/1987).

Subsequent research confirmed that children’s self-talk plays a central role in self-regulation and problem-solving. Berk (1992) reviewed extensive evidence showing that private speech serves as cognitive self-guidance, helping children plan, monitor, and correct their behaviour. Later, Fernyhough and Fradley (2005) demonstrated continuity between private speech and inner speech: children who used more self-talk while completing executive tasks also showed better planning and task performance.

Through this developmental arc, language migrates from the social realm to the individual mind, where it becomes our tool for thinking, remembering, and reasoning.


Two Modes of Inner Speech

Psychologist Charles Fernyhough expanded Vygotsky’s model, identifying two major forms of inner speech: expanded and condensed. Expanded inner speech is the full internal conversation—complete sentences, tone, even imagined interlocutors. Condensed inner speech is its telegraphic shorthand, the quick mental note or single phrase (“keys…train…call mum”). Adults move fluidly along this continuum, sometimes whispering aloud when mental effort intensifies, a pattern Fernyhough links directly to children’s earlier private speech (Alderson-Day & Fernyhough, 2015).

This dynamic quality reminds us that inner speech isn’t fixed. It stretches and contracts to match the cognitive or emotional demand of the moment.


Cognitive and Neural Mechanisms of Inner Speech

Brain-imaging work confirms that the silent voice in our heads recruits the same circuits used for overt speech. McGuire et al. (1996) showed that Broca’s area, the brain’s speech-production region, activates even when people merely imagine speaking.

More recent studies refine this picture. Alderson-Day et al. (2016) found that both language and auditory cortices participate in inner speech and voice-hearing, suggesting that we not only “speak” internally but also simulate hearing ourselves. Predictive-coding models propose that the auditory cortex generates an internal forward model of speech, allowing us to anticipate what we are about to say (Tian & Poeppel, 2010).

Intriguingly, elicited and spontaneous inner speech show different patterns. When participants are told to talk silently, Broca’s area dominates; when inner speech arises naturally, activity shifts toward the auditory cortex, implying that genuine inner speech may be more like hearing than speaking.


Inner Speech Variability and Experience Sampling

Not everyone experiences a running verbal monologue. Using Descriptive Experience Sampling, Hurlburt et al. (2013) found that only a subset of participants reported inner speech frequently; many described imagery, emotion, or abstract knowing instead. A comprehensive review by Alderson-Day and Fernyhough (2015) concluded that inner speech varies widely in form, frequency, and function across individuals.

These findings unsettle the assumption that “thinking equals talking to oneself.” For many, cognition unfolds without words.


Inner Speech, Voice-Hearing, and Misattribution

At the far end of the spectrum lies voice-hearing. The connection between inner speech and auditory hallucinations has long intrigued psychologists. Bentall (1990) proposed that hallucinations may arise when inner speech is misattributed—when the brain fails to label a self-generated signal as “mine.”

Later studies supported this view. Moseley, Fernyhough, and Ellison (2013) argued that hallucinated voices often reflect errors in reality monitoring rather than entirely separate phenomena. Garrison et al. (2015) even identified a structural correlate: a shorter paracingulate sulcus was associated with greater likelihood of hallucinations, consistent with impaired self-other discrimination.

Voice-hearing, then, can be seen not as alien intrusion but as inner dialogue whose source tag has slipped.


Inner Speech and the Social Brain

Inner speech does more than encode language—it engages the social mind. Alderson-Day et al. (2016) found that dialogic inner speech activates theory-of-mind regions such as the right temporoparietal junction, implying that our inner dialogues recruit the same networks used to understand others.

Similarly, Morin and Michaud (2007) argued that inner speech underpins self-reflection by internalizing social interaction. When we talk to ourselves, we’re effectively rehearsing the roles of speaker and listener within one mind.


Absence of Inner Speech and Alternative Cognitive Modes

What, then, happens when the inner voice is absent?

People with anendophasia—the apparent absence of inner speech—report thinking without verbal imagery. They describe concepts, feelings, or spatial patterns arising directly, without linguistic narration. While empirical research on anendophasia is just beginning, parallels can be drawn from studies on imagery vividness. Zeman et al. (2020) documented a continuum from aphantasia (no imagery) to hyperphantasia (vivid imagery), suggesting a similar range likely exists for verbal experience.

More recently, Long et al. (2023) interviewed individuals who lack an inner voice and found that they rely on visual, spatial, or intuitive modes of cognition—what some call wordless knowing. Their thinking remains sophisticated but unfolds without the internal soundtrack most of us assume is universal.


Mindfulness, Rumination, and the Quiet Mind

Those without inner speech often describe a tranquil, uncluttered awareness. Interestingly, this echoes findings in contemplative neuroscience: meditation practices that still verbal thought reduce activity in the default-mode network, the system associated with self-referential chatter and rumination (Brewer et al., 2011).

Similarly, Alderson-Day and Fernyhough (2015) noted that individuals reporting less inner speech tend to experience lower levels of self-critical rumination. The silent mind may not only be quieter—it may also be kinder.


Is It Bliss—or Just Different?

So is the absence of an inner voice a kind of bliss? Perhaps. For some, it’s a peaceful spaciousness others spend years of meditation chasing. For others, it’s simply normal.

There are trade-offs. Without inner rehearsal, verbal planning or memorization may require external scaffolds—lists, notes, reminders. Emotional insight might arise more through felt sense than linguistic labeling. Yet these are variations, not deficits.

Anendophasia reminds us that consciousness comes in many dialects. Some minds speak; some picture; some simply know. None is more human than the other.

👇 Try grading your own experience:
When you think to yourself, which one sounds most like you?
  • Constant Narrator – I hear a full voice or inner dialogue nearly all the time.
  • Frequent Voice – I often use words in my head, but not for everything.
  • Fragmented – I get brief words, phrases, or mental “notes,” not full sentences.
  • Quiet Knowing – I rarely “hear” words, but I still know what I’m thinking.
  • Silent Mind – I never experience an inner voice at all — just awareness, imagery, or feelings.
🧠 The research shows that no one of these are “right” or “better.” They’re simply different ways the mind does its thing.
 
So — where do you fall on the Inner Voice Spectrum?

Let’s see how varied our inner worlds really are.
 
I am a solid 1 on this spectrum.
Constant narration, with narration about that narration at times 

Hyperendophasia anyone?

References

Alderson-Day, B., & Fernyhough, C. (2015). Inner speech: Development, cognitive functions, phenomenology, and neurobiology. Psychological Bulletin, 141(5), 931–965. https://doi.org/10.1037/bul0000021

Alderson-Day, B., Lima, C. F., Evans, S., Krageloh, C., & Fernyhough, C. (2016). Inner speech as a window into human nature: New evidence from brain imaging and dialogue models. Brain and Language, 162, 1–12. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.bandl.2016.08.004

Berk, L. E. (1992). Children’s private speech: An overview of theory and the status of research. Developmental Review, 12(1), 1–23. https://doi.org/10.1016/0273-2297(92)90004-P

Bentall, R. P. (1990). The illusion of reality: A review and integration of psychological research on hallucinations. Psychological Bulletin, 107(1), 82–95. https://doi.org/10.1037/0033-2909.107.1.82

Brewer, J. A., Worhunsky, P. D., Gray, J. R., Tang, Y. Y., Weber, J., & Kober, H. (2011). Meditation experience is associated with differences in default mode network activity and connectivity. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 108(50), 20254–20259. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1112029108

Fernyhough, C., & Fradley, E. (2005). Private speech on an executive task: Relations with task difficulty and task performance. Cognitive Development, 20(1), 103–120. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cogdev.2004.11.002

Garrison, J. R., Fernyhough, C., McCarthy-Jones, S., Simons, J. S., & Allen, P. (2015). Paracingulate sulcus morphology is associated with hallucinations in the human brain. Nature Communications, 6, 8956. https://doi.org/10.1038/ncomms9956

Hurlburt, R. T., Heavey, C. L., & Kelsey, J. M. (2013). Toward a phenomenology of inner speaking. Consciousness and Cognition, 22(4), 1477–1494. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.concog.2013.10.003

Long, C., Andrews-Hanna, J., & Zeman, A. (2023). Individual differences in inner experience: Phenomenology and function of anendophasia. Frontiers in Psychology, 14, 1210452. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2023.1210452

McGuire, P. K., Silbersweig, D. A., Murray, R. M., David, A. S., Frackowiak, R. S. J., & Frith, C. D. (1996). Functional anatomy of inner speech and auditory verbal imagery. Psychological Medicine, 26(1), 29–38. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0033291700033699

Morin, A., & Michaud, J. (2007). Self-awareness and the left inferior frontal gyrus: Inner speech use during self-related processing. Brain Research Bulletin, 74(6), 387–396. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.brainresbull.2007.06.013

Moseley, P., Fernyhough, C., & Ellison, A. (2013). Auditory verbal hallucinations as atypical inner speech monitoring: Evidence from a dual task paradigm. Consciousness and Cognition, 22(3), 1021–1030. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.concog.2013.06.004

Tian, X., & Poeppel, D. (2010). Mental imagery of speech and movement implicates the dynamics of internal forward models. Frontiers in Psychology, 1, 166. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2010.00166

Vygotsky, L. S. (1934/1987). Thought and Language. MIT Press.

Zeman, A., Dewar, M., & Della Sala, S. (2020). Reflections on aphantasia: Life without mental imagery. Cortex, 130, 26–30. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cortex.2020.04.003