I have bad days. Hours when I wish The End was breathing down my neck. But I always know that something’s out there waiting for me to come along and find it. Places to be seen and people to meet, to learn from. Life isn’t over yet. I’ll waste some more time.
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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