Roses And Thorns (UNDER HEAVY EDITING)

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-Two types of people.

If I were to describe myself years ago, I would compare myself to a bag full of insecurities.
No matter how confident I looked or acted like, all I really heard between the good and bad opinions about me were the bad. People could haunt me, and you could easily see how guarded I stayed in these moments, because I knew how many layers my insecurities had.
It didn't help that I thought to be in love with a jerk, and I was friends with people that always put me down.
I didn't know the meaning of a true friendship.
I was blinded by the idea that my friends were telling me these harsh words because they were true. I was stupid, to believe them and let them bring me down.
When they left me, alone in the dark, I learned to become one with the darkness. It was all I had left. But I also slowly saw the bigger picture and started picking myself up after a while, because the best thing about being alone, is that you don't hear any criticism anymore, and I found peace in my solitude.
Until one day, I felt the need to look for something new, something different. I wanted to see more of the world, to see it from a different angle, a different perspective. I wanted to evolve, and get out of this comfortable space I was occupying on my own. So I searched in people, for someone who would understand, someone a bit like me.
And when I looked, I saw the chaos around me. I saw what this life has done to many others. I saw damaged people searching for something to numb the pain, I saw people with scars giving up on life, feeling hopeless, and then I saw them from distance, along with other people, living without a care in the world, each one of them had hurt someone and took their trust and heart away. Now I could see that there were two types of people in this world: the hurt, and the people that hurt others. Turns out I wasn't really struggling on my own, in fact, a lot of people were feeling the same or worse, while the ones who caused it were happily ignoring them. And when I gave the ones hurting a piece of my poetry, words describing the pain I went through, they told me it felt like a stranger offered them cold fresh water after a suffocating long walk through the desert. So I took it as a starting point to start writing more about it. For me, for them, all we had was poetry.