I climb the stairs ready to start the day, to get it over and done with. It’s been too long since I’ve put some road between me and this place, this life. There’s a message on my phone from her when I check. I count the minutes until I’m there.
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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