Electricity and the phone and the internet and the god damned rent too. It all comes crashing at once. I think I’m getting ahead and the vultures swoop, scavenge the corpse of my wallet and leave me with less than I’m due, all for the luxury of getting by in the world. The ‘American Dream’ is bondage with a smile.
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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