I stand under the shower crying. It feels good. Natural. Tears drip off my face blending with the water running down the drain. When we die are we not the same. Do our souls also become one with the infinite. Boundless. Life never ending. Head hung hot water on my neck I can only hope so.
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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