The feeling was in the air and it wasn't even the weekend. Tonight the streets will be full. Teeming with people letting their hair down. Sick of languishing. I’m craving action like I haven’t in years. The plague gave me eyes to see how stagnant I’ve become. I give it my thanks.
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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