A text from the boss. No work. Shit, my quality of life is going to drop unless I’m savvy. Ok ok, this is good, an omen I’m spending too much, living like I’m someone else. But now is not the time to panic. Instead I focus on the present. It costs me nothing to type, and the refrigerator’s full.
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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