I overhear the lamentations of a man with a giant brown dog. The price of lavender shampoo for the beast is through the roof. I take a drag on my cigarette. I wonder if life isn’t too easy? And the owner might do well to suffer for real. Though the coat of the animal does shine.
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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