The buzzer sounds as I walk out the door. It comes as a comfort to know I won’t have to hear it again for three days. Seventy-two hours of peace and quiet. Time to write, to read, to remember this is all I ever wanted. Now what…find a little love?
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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