All day long sweat sweat sweat. Pushing ink through a screen I dream of my air conditioner set to full blast. But when I arrive the corridors are dark, emergency lighting only, it’s stifling. I laugh as I peel my shirt from my body, run the shower ice cold.
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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