Damp and musty the dirty metro station feels older then its forty years or so. The benches where the bums were always drinking last fall are empty this morning. Either too early to imbibe or they’ve all been warned too many times now. The rules have all changed. Public gatherings banned on every level of society. But it makes me wonder. Without one another how are we supposed to live.
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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