Through an open window I watch my neighbour make his bed. I shake my head as he crawls around in the blankets with boots on, I don’t see the point. But I don’t have to. All I have to do is finish this cigarette and prepare for the day. All I have to do is give in to fate. Fuck him.
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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