I shiver before opening my eyes. The apartment is freezing and I’m not even out from under the blankets. Life is rough. So I shut off my alarm before the buzzing drives me insane. I look at the ceiling. The faces in the wood are laughing. I groan. There’s no better way to start the day.
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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