I lose myself in the work. Images repeated until they blur. All I see are imperfections, lint in the design, pinholes in the screen leaving ink where it shouldn’t, giving rise to client complaints. I learned a long time ago the best way to be left to your thoughts is to be good at what you do. So I am.
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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