Very Quiet Around Here

I'm spending time outside of the character. It's a strange place, but it's not too. It's natural and wonderful.

You don't feel motivated. You might "do" some things, or some things might happen. But you don't feel motivated, or attached.

Opinions are coming and going slightly. Not very strong. Politics, personal preferences, irritations... Old irritations. Then I remember those aren't mine. They belong to the "someone". I can let that go now.

It's a lower, slower energy but without a sense of a "bad" mood or depression. Close, but not the same. It is not sad. Maybe it is kind of a feeling of absence instead.

No one at home. No one on social. No character, no playing a part, no playing along.

No "artist", "bookkeeper", "woman", "angry person", "happy person", "person". Just watching. Almost waiting. But not quite.

Poem 4-11-26

I know I must bend like a willow

with people I've only just met,

but when they stare at me blankly,

how can I ever forget?

The idea of people at all

of course is only of mind,

so why do my feelings persist

and not allow me to unwind?

Personhood comes and it goes

for happy and sad times, both.

"I am" puts it on and removes it

just like a piece of old cloth.