Ok, this is going to be easy. Make it through the horrible hours. Return to where I am now. My glorious bed. How many of us race through our days with nothing more than that in sight, a place where the terrors of being alive are forgotten? I toss the blankets from my body, I remember.
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