She's picked me up from the ground after thousands of thoughts contemplating death.
Yet I despise her so much.
She was there for me, with all the right words after my heart had been ripped of the flowers another had once placed.
And I still have the audacity to talk down to her like she is not the most important thing in the world.
She told me everything would be alright when it felt like there was a gaping hole inside my chest that would never be fixed.
Still I told her that she was pathetic and unworthy of love.
She told me to accept myself millions of times. Told me how spectacular I was and that I deserve the best.
In return I told her that I wish she was dead.
I have never been good at loving myself. It's just not something that ever came easy.
I despised her for trying to make me love the monster that I think I am.
But then I realized that you shouldn't hate the only person who's picked you up from the disasters that occur in your life.
Even when that person is you.
