I’m on the train waiting to get off. I’m late, and I’m so edgy and angrily moving my weight from foot to foot wanting people to get the fuck out of my way. Then I realize I’m doing an asshole classification: bro, bulldyke, banger… The worst stereotypes whispering in my ears by some dark corner of my mind.
I think, this is no good. This is bad for me, bad for them. I got to make them people. I look at them and think, “who has had their heart broken?”
“Who has suffered longing?”
“Who has been kicked to the curb?”
“Who got back up again?”
Everyone. They are here aren’t they?
And at that moment I loved them all. Every brave human. Every that one chick who shoved in front of me and gave me a dirty look while she did it.
They are all doing the best they can.
61°F Light Rain
1925 Evans Ave, San Francisco, CA, United States