Against my wishes she puts on clothes. Pulling the blankets up to her chin she says she might not call tomorrow because she’ll be with a friend. I say no problem, I’ll see her in a few days. Blowing kisses across an ocean we hang up. I devour four tacos.
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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