I Think That I’ve Loved Everyone That I’ve Ever Met

Fuck, I am so full of love. Disgustingly full of love.

It’s why I take my job home with me so hard. It’s why I write long-winded paragraphs and poems.

My mom died very suddenly and traumatically. The last thing that I told her was that I didn’t want her in my life.

I know the finality of last words. I know what it is to regret an ending.

I make it a priority to never go through that again.

I believe in honesty. I believe that every heart should be treated with care. I believe in the collective good of humanity. I believe in treasuring people.

Because of my episode and all that I’ve lost, friends have become a rare luxury for me. I have learned to covet them whenever I get to have them. For someone to see me and my illness and not look away… fuck, that is sacred.

It’s also given me perspective. You never know what someone is battling. You never know what hardship or sickness that they face.

I don’t understand being cruel. I really don’t.