When I explained my life he said it sounded nice. And I have to admit he’s right. All my friends work full time, some two jobs. Fools. There are better ways to live. The gutter may laugh from the future, but the present is all that exists.
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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