Fallen leaves crunch on the sidewalk. My legs are sore as we stroll but I keep my mouth shut. She desires movement. And I prefer she feels like she’s living not merely standing still. I want to remind her life isn’t only the shit. So I ignore my pain, because that’s the god damned trick.
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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