No one wants to really look in the mirror. To question why they want the things they want. Or if they really do. If the little baubles we're sold don't cut it any longer our satisfaction is harder to come by. Because we're all blind. We never see the things we have. We often forget that love is free.
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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