I drop off my bag, pick up another, heavier one. Off to the laundromat like every week. The only date I’ve got. An older married woman who works there, she eats a sandwich while I write. We both have our rituals. At the end of the night she’ll return to her husband. I make do with silence.
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