The rain holds off. But I place my yellow slicker in my bag just in case. We kiss before I leave. In the corridor the tenant from down the hall with the dogs that don’t like me is walking my way. I step back. I let her pass through the fire door with as little recognition as possible. Like when we see each other at the bus stop. Pefection.
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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