Bad day. I rotate between choking back tears and wanting to go to sleep forever. Miguel uses me to practice his english. I look away as he asks basic questions. Tears burn my eyes as I answer, but I want to help, he’s a long way from home, and I’d like him to feel at ease. Yeah man…I fucking love rock and roll.
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.
Comments
Post a Comment