Hot water feels good, I don’t want to step out but I must. I have writing to do before the clock ticks down and I need to leave. Fucking money…they have us by the balls! To eat or keep a place to sleep then it’s get down on one knee, give up a little spirit. That’s what makes us all the same.
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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