This is the fear I’m full of. When the plague is under control everyone is going to go nuts. Apeshit for human contact. It’s going to be hard to get out of all it. Excuses like I’d rather sit on a corner alone. View the people walking by like entertainment. Talking to strangers instead of the ones I know. No one understands. And that right there is my curse.
And I need all the reasons I can find not to hate myself. But it’s hard. Even the idea makes me shiver. Because I see loving myself like looking down on others. Riding around on a high horse. And I never want to think I’m better then the people I see on the street. The ones who have it rough. The ones who don’t fit in. The ones I see my own face in.
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