I hurry getting ready. I keep pausing to check my phone. No word from the boss absolving me. My head hangs. I was sure I’d get a reprieve and the day would be mine. I imagined my hours spent in leisure. A nap in the sun wile others toiled. I look once more before I leave.
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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