I was having coffee with another writer when he asked me why I do it. I told him I’m looking for enlightenment. I didn’t lie, but it’s not the entire truth. I sit in front of the computer because I’m searching for a way to be human. But it doesn’t seem to be working.
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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