These past few years have been very painful; people I never would've imagined leaving, did; the things I never thought someone could use against me, were. But, I’ve learned something new about myself through all of the pain; I really just want to love everybody. I never would have hated him, no matter how much everything hurt. I can’t hate anybody. When my mom was killed, I did hate my dad for taking her from me. I hated him for years, until I realized I wasn’t getting anywhere; I didn’t even have anything tangible to hate anymore. There was no point in hating someone who had died, I wasn’t getting anything out of my anger. After realizing this, I couldn’t hate anyone anymore. I couldn’t rationalize hating the boy that lied to me for four years, but not hating the man that took my mother from me. It didn’t feel right. And after being lied to for years, how could I hate the next boy that only lied for a few weeks? I couldn’t find someone worthy of hating, which sounds odd but is true. So, I don’t hate. I can’t hate; and I think that’s what makes everything so confusing. People will hurt me, they’ll tell me to kill myself and I still can’t hate them. Day after day, I would wake up to messages detailing why I didn't deserve to be alive. Every day was just a waiting game for when the next message would come in. These people would use my past relationships and my parent's deaths against me. They'd tell me that no one would miss me and that I was ugly. Before bed, I'd get messages begging for that night to be the night I finally killed myself, in the morning I'd get greeted with disappointment that I didn't follow through with their suggestions from the night before. They convinced me everyone in my life hated me and were only in it because they felt bad for me. I received list after list, detailing how I could go about ending my life, or reasons why I should leave. Yet, I still have love for them. I still want to know who made them hurt this bad. I want to be their friend, I want to heal that hurt. So, I let them continue to push me down, because I know I can handle it. Life’s thrown me some killer curveballs, but I haven’t struck out yet (I don't understand baseball fully but I believe that metaphor works). Does what they say hurt? Yes. It hurts a lot. Will I kill myself over their words? No. I cannot imagine writing a note and telling my loved ones I’m no longer with them because an anonymous number told me to stop breathing. But, I was still hurting myself. I was letting these people validate everything I was telling myself, and in a way, I loved it. I was right, all the thoughts in my head were showing up on my phone screen. Was it healthy? Absolutely not. Just because I was still alive didn’t mean I was okay, I was simply alive because I didn’t want to die for a dumb reason. When the numbers told me that someone hated me, I cut myself from that person’s life. When they told me to eat less, I did. When they said to cut, I did. I was miserable, but never once did I want to report them. I didn't want them to get in trouble, because I believed this was how they needed to work through their problems. If I wasn't going to kill myself because of their words, what was the harm in letting them continue? I couldn’t block them because then they couldn’t heal, and that wasn’t fair to them. I cared more about these anonymous number’s health and safety than my own. I never cared how it was affecting me, as long as I could believe that those messages were helping them feel better about themselves. Because at the end of the day, I just want to love. I don't have room in my heart to hate, and I have no desire to. But, I’ve realized something: If I want to love everybody, I have to understand that I am part of everybody. I have to love me, too. Which is fucking terrifying. I had just spent a year or more letting anyone who needed to hurt me in the name of their own personal growth, do just that. How was I supposed to turn around and take that away from them and say that it was my time now? It seemed so selfish to me; I was putting what I wanted over what they wanted, a concept I had always seen as negative. But how negative can it really be when it's to keep me healthy? I didn't want to become rude, fighting anger with more anger was never my strong suit. But humor always has been; and messed up humor is where I excel. So, I began sending funny responses back. I'd be a smart ass; or I’d come up with a funny comeback. And I hoped with everything inside me that it would at least make them smile, because I did (and still do) wholeheartedly believe they deserve happiness. Everyone does. Everyone deserves to have that one thing that makes them want to get up in the morning.