I stare at the dusty hardwood wondering what I’m doing. It’s too early to be running from her bed. I was an intelligent young man. There were possibilities. Go to school. Find success. Instead I stumbled into a job that doesn’t require me to think. My mind is mine. It’s worth the price.
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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