I sit on my bike at the corner in the sun. When the light turns green I give in to my destiny. I cut across the street. Down an alley. Not fast. I weave between speed bumps and sewer grates and fallen branches. It feels like it could rain. And I'm in need of being cleaned.
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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