Being Loved

I've been having talking to a lot of my friends lately, and it seems like a running theme in all the conversations is that someone doesn't like them, or hates them, or something, and therefore they feel their own life is worthless.

When I was just a kid, maybe 10 at most, I had a friend, Gary Lees, who was like two years older than me. (I ended up being at least one grade below all my friends on my block, but that's another story.) I remember being in a car with him and his family, going off somewhere, like a movie or something, and he was upset about something. He said something to the effect of "I'll bet I'm adopted. My real parents didn't want me and left me in a dumpster to die." Sad stuff. Completely untrue, too. I thought about that for just a second before replying. "Well, even if that is true, then these people still loved you enough to take you into their home, which is realy good, right?" I probably paraphrased that, but the effect comes out right.

So to all you people who are sad about how your life is miserable because there is someone who doesn't like you. Honestly, there are some six billion people on this planet who don't like you, simply because they don't know you. Why should you get upset because you know a very small fraction of the people who don't like you? That's like getting upset at one small grain of rice for tasting bad.

Really, if you ask me, the measure of your friends is not in the people who don't like you, but in the people who do. And if you ask me, it only takes just one or two people who love you to even out against the people who don't. Chances are, if you're reading this, you can add me to that list. So there you go. Your life is validated, if for no other reason than I want you in my life. So cheer up and know that someone in Lubbock cares about you.