Abandoned Underground…

Things that people have discarded in the subway…

I am supposed to be showing due diligence to my DBT worksheets, my counselor says. “Emotional Records”. I try to keep these logs according to the forms as best I can, but right now I feel like my moods aren’t simply fluctuating; they’re laying one over the other like shifting tectonic plates. The idea is stimulii lead to emotion, which is true, but what these sheets don’t seem to account for is when the feeling of one stimulus lingers though others, or when it ducks under for a while and then re-emerges with no prompting. I guess this is what the “mindfulness” worksheets are for.

I hear high pitched whistles when I stand in certain parts of the loft. No one else is hearing them.

Eric has been wonderfully supportive through rough and confusing shit, sometimes by extra nice little actions like taking me for a nice lunch at Vegetarian Paradise, other times by simply being present.

4 thoughts on “Abandoned Underground…

  1. Thanks. That’s the kind of friend worth marrying (which I did)…a windmill is what we call a pinwheel here in the U.S.?

    I do sing, and do other more noise based stuff with my voice, even been complimented on it, sadly few have heard it outside of dive bars and underground art spaces pretty much🙂

    Like

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