As the clock runs out I smoke a joint. We both sit quietly. She gets up to open the blinds. Sunlight pours in the studio. It bathes the plants and I can feel them drink it up. But I know better. At this time of the year so much sun is a trick. I check the weather. -26 C with the wind. It'll only make me stronger.
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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