First time in more than a week that I've enjoyed my early morning writing time. While I've always known that it was an essential part of my day, a balancing ritual to the last month’s seemingly endless swirl of shit, the past few days – and the enjoyment derived from it this morning – made visceral just how much it's required to keep me from falling too far into… less beneficial directions.

the unfuckening, day ten

Holding pattern continues as general and pervasive exhaustion settles in for the long haul upon my person and brings with it the unwelcome plus one of flaring BPD made more so because I'm too exhausted to keep myself in check but happily happy pills are holding their own and keeping the worst of flare-up proclivities at a corporeal minimum, mental being another story, though the day away has helped reestablish my self-policing abilities and, while I’ve little interest in work or anything similar my favorite part of the hospital's chiptune Minuet in G hold music is when it cuts out for half a second and sounds like there's some epic profanity being bleeped out.