Modern life, it’s boring, I’m never made to prove myself. I crave more! I don’t need violence, all I want is a challenge. Religious sects have fasts, endless bullshit. But what does secular society offer us looking to chastise ourselves? Nothing, follow along as we’re demanded. So I write.
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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