Strolling rue Notre-Dame I’m glad I gave up waiting for the bus. Ambient music in my earbuds and the world around me is a film. I weave through couples holding hands and groups of friends enjoying the sun. I open my parka. Suddenly I’m filled with joy.
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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