Lately I wake excited. It’s like something big is going to happen and for once it won’t feel like a kick. Though the voice in my head is a pessimist. What’s the point? Why bother? You’re a loser it screams. I laugh in its face, because every day is a chance.
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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