Tears run down my face as I pass the old brick factory and the sunny fields of melting snow on my left. There’s nothing I can do to stop them. Because I’m stuck in the dread. And I feel like life is slipping away. A sinkhole forming below me. And soon I’ll be gobbled up. Swallowed. So I breathe deep. I wait for its arrival.
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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