We slowly walk as smiling people crowd Friday night streets. Weekend thoughts on everyone’s mind. Two free days for every seven, it’s hideous! Family and friends and joy suffer in the face of making enough to get by. I hold her hand a little tighter while dreaming of rebellion.
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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