I write with laughter on my lips. It’s easy to say you’re tired, hard to fuck up a nice life for sitting in front of a keyboard. But some things are impossible to ignore. I don’t know if people are on earth for a reason, seems arrogant. But if I’m in god’s image being myself is doing his work. Talk about hubris.
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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