I wake. And before I know it I’m standing outside blowing smoke into the air. The weather isn’t bad. There isn’t a soul on the street. I breathe the moment in. So few in city life this silent. I live alone, but the world is always screaming for my attention. This morning I don’t rush. I enjoy.
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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