Sitting on the ledge of a window long boarded up I doomscroll looking for I don’t know what. Though there’s a palpable feeling I’ll find it. But not before I toss my butt on the cracked pavement at my feet. Weeds grow toward a sun that isn’t shining today. I pull my hood over my head to protect myself from the rain.
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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