A message from a far off friend names an artist I don’t know. Pictures I’ve never seen. Cause to smile. Some brightness on a cloudy day. Life is in small fragments. Short trips to the café. A screen flashes and suddenly I’m not alone. A miracle. The rest of the time it’s me and these words.
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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