In the dark I pretend to rest with the covers over my head though I’m restless. I know it’s a joke but I’m not laughing. I roll over. Consult my phone for answers that only it can give. I scroll through endless photos on a quest for beauty fully aware I can never be satisfied. Now that’s modern life for you.
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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