By the time we eat I don’t have any stamina left. I gave it all to the job like a fool. And as much as I hate to admit it I’m not the young man I was. Slowly I won’t be able to hack it. Slowly I’m going to have to find other ways to make money. Life has never been anything but a fear of tomorrow. I wouldn’t change it if I could.
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.
Comments
Post a Comment