I shower quickly. Time to work. Because I hear the routine calling. The break I took was long enough. Trees have bloomed and moods have changed. I left the city and returned. Now I’m ready to fight. And the only opponent I care to beat is me. I sit in front of my weapon with a smile.
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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