If I didn’t get the bus

Love these stories picked up by Julie (not her real name)

Little steps to Somewhere

I wouldn’t be able to listen to their stories. Maybe it’s easier to tell strangers about your life.  You can tell the version you prefer, with no one to interrupt to say that’s not how it was. Sometimes the stories are not meant for my ears, but the acoustics of a bus mean voices do travel.  Then there are the stories not quite heard, only a line picked up here and there so that I make up my own story.

Making assumptions

I sat just in front because she was on her mobile.

“The voice is not good today”

“No, you’re just saying that. It’s not okay.”

“Really? It’s the same for you? That’s such a relief!”

“I know, I get a lot out of the group too.”

Ah, thought I.  She has schizophrenia and she was at a peer support group for people who hear voices.  Perhaps I should…

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