It's nicer out than yesterday though I’m still underdressed. On the side of the bike path I prepare myself best as I can. Stuff the sleeves of my hoodie into my gloves. Zipper of my ill fitting jacket done up as far as it’ll go. Still the wind find its way to my skin. Goose flesh raises as I chill to the bone.
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.
Comments
Post a Comment