Standing in front of the sink I sigh. Little things seem impossible. It’s been like this since I returned. The hardest part has been slipping into the routine of working, needing to make money, and knowing the rent is due sooner than later. We’ve all got shadows. But the length is always changing.
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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