dual diagnosis
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the soft brown chair by the window, overlooking Fulton Street, holds me tonight.I come here most weeks for therapy, and for a little while, the world outside feels far away, almost like the air in here belongs only to me. my hands won’t stay still. my thoughts circle around themselves, heavy and jagged.depression and addiction…
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I live with a dual diagnosis: depression and substance use disorder. that’s the name for it. but what it feels like is living on a hinge: leaning toward one world, pulled by the other. one world is made of steady hands and gentle hearts. the soft echo of my mother’s voice from another room. abuela’s…
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waiting rooms have a strange gravity to them. this one knew more of me than I meant to share. maybe it lands somewhere close to you. waitINgRooM waiting for someone to call my name is an anxiety machine/music in my headphones’ the only thing keeping me slow/sitting on forms, back to the wall,/TV screen goes…
cookie nieves 