We’re the last ones out of the café as it closes. For June the weather is freezing so we hurry to the pharmacy with our heads down barely talking. Inside we cruise the aisles. Stores used to overwhelm me. I’ve learned to adapt. I’m not alone. I make jokes and she laughs.
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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