Winter is full of important questions. Will there be work or will my stomach grumble? I pull myself away from typing to fix a lunch for later. The boss texts me. Nothing today. I leave my things on the counter and put on my parka. I tap my cigarettes in my breast pocket. I smile.
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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