I harbour dreams of running off to Europe. Countries where the winters aren’t as harsh. But I should face up to reality. I’ve always been a loser. A history I can't escape from. I'm too great a burden for immigration. But I could take a trip. Toss my return ticket in the trash. Disappear. The only option I have left seems the most like me.
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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