But first, an update: You haven’t heard from me here in a few weeks, and that’s honestly because I haven’t been riding the subway. Rush hour in NYC - the energy and momentum is palpable and somehow my brain fogs everything else out of focus and I’m inspired. I commute approximately one hour to my job in midtown, then one hour home to BedStuy Monday - Thursday. That’s at least eight solid hours a week I spend reading and writing. Riding in close quarters with hundreds of thousands of other New Yorkers every day is, in theory, my personal hell. The smells, my fellow disruptive passengers, the fights, the obnoxious conductors -
Holy shit. #8. I’m dead. I’m an unintentional serial therapist dater and I think empaths are just overly codependent energy vampires.