I’m lead through the mob like I’m important. The events coordinator tells me things and I barely listen. It’s standing room only. The murmuring crowd fills my head. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in front of so many people. I’m scared. I’m excited. I’m going to have a heart attack.
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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