I’ve been catching up on some reading around the web, and it seems that some people are confused about me. They seem to think that I ‘hate’ them simply because I do not like the fact that they steal or lie. I despise liars. I despise thieves. I do not hate them, I see them as people who are missing something vital in their lives, so they lie or steal to make up for that. I do not feel sorry for them, but I often wonder if they know what they are fully doing in their existence. Do they know that by lying to others, they aren’t going to make or keep many friends? I tried, for eight years, to be friends with a pathological liar. It’s back in my archives last fall. She lied and lied and lied to me and for what? Because she wanted to feel as important as she thought I am? I’m no one important. Did she desperately want to be my friend? She should have been herself. I liked the woman I met, not the woman she became. Ultimately, my friends and family decided that she wanted my brother-in-law’s fame and fortune and I was relieved when she excused herself from my life. I was glad she made that first move because I did not want to be the one to tell her I wanted out of the “friendship” out of fear of causing drama with her. Boy, did she know how to cause drama! During our friendship years, I had sent her several photos of myself, including undeveloped film for her to have processed to “prove” I was who I said I was. Once we no longer were close, those pictures kept leaking online. She would claim equipment failure or hackers or viruses, but I have yet to find a virus or hacker to back up her claims. I also found it interesting that when her power would suddenly go out, my dad’s would not, and he lived just a few blocks from her. Every time my brother-in-law would refuse to call her on the phone or buy her expensive presents, those pictures I sent her would be magically leaked online. Even though I did not send them in digital formats.

It only took once for me to realise what was going on, and I never sent her another set of pictures of me again. When she wanted to meet up, I would make excuses not to, and she would storm the MeetUp boards. It was always hilarious, because others would jump to tell her that they had met me.

Now, the above story would be a good indication of someone I would “hate”. But I don’t hate that person. I don’t hate anyone. Hate is an option I choose not to have. Despite and dislike are different from hate. To me, hate is a point of no return. I’m all about the forgiveness these days, opening the veins of my life to those who want to read about it, and I am willing to forgive those who have done me wrong. That does not mean I will forget what they have done to me, and I won’t make myself vulnerable to another attack. But to second judge me as someone who hates? You’re just wrong. I don’t hate any body, and I’m certainly not out for revenge to anyone. Paranoia: You have it bad.