Two days in a row I wake early. I curse the time change. It’ll be the death of me. And I’m too young for that. I have things to live for. Books to write…women to meet…a bladder to empty! I jump from the mattress like I’m on fire. Though it’s being wet I’m afraid of.
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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