I am blessed to say, I haven’t had much loss in my life that didn’t teach me something. My heart grieved, but grew stronger in the process. I’ve had this approach to life longer than I can remember, loss is a part of life. Hatred should not be.

I regret my loss of innocent bliss. I had this image in my mind that my family was perfect, and that everyone’s home life was perfect. We weren’t rich, or without drama, but the love felt overshadowed those defects. As I grew older I saw my friends struggle with the idea of parents getting divorced, drinking, suicide, drug abuse, and self-hatred. I couldn’t seem to conceive the concept of a parent NOT being the support system for their child.

When faced with the hatred in their eyes, residue of the latest bull fight with their mom/dad/boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife, I would physically cringe. How could I help? Would they want my help? Do they need my help? Is my help enough? My mind still has trouble coming to terms with those out there who hate so deeply it mars their soul.

How could anyone hate a child? a parent? It broke my heart to discover the truth of the world at large, but although I have loss that innocence I have not lost my faith. Faith in humanity, faith in the survivalist spirit, faith in myself and others. Death is not the worst thing that could happen to a life, hatred is. Death can take you away from the mental, physical, emotional pain that one endures; but, hatred lingers and can breed more hatred and discontent.

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