At least it’s easy to type. The circumstances are to blame. A different city. I’m reeling with exhaustion. I’m a mess and I feel like a fool. But I take a step back to remind myself these are the juicy days of life, times I’ll remember better than those that were easy. When it’s tough as leather, all I can do is chew.
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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