I have killed myself many times. Over and over again, with no remorse whatsoever, I have killed myself to become the person I am today.
Thousands of versions of me have littered the passage of my life as I shed skin after skin, lesson after lesson to become the person I honestly can say I am proud of.
The part of me that hated myself was murdered yesterday. I carved the part of myself that hated me into a million pieces and threw it away because how dare I hate this precious gift that I have been given? What right do I have to tell the years of evolution that created me that they are wrong, and hate all the wonderful qualities I do have? So what if I am flawed. All human beings are. We all have a list of flaws that is longer than our right arms. That doesn’t give me a reason to hate myself. And it shouldn’t be a reason for you to hate yourself either.
The version of me that was unkind and cruel was destroyed years ago. I replaced my angry hard heart with a soft one and switched the part of my brain that hated anyone off. Hate is such a strong word, and the amount of emotions that go into hating someone is energy best expended elsewhere. It is best to ignore those that hurt you, treat them with erasure but remember to keep some kind of forgiveness in your heart for those who unintentionally gave you pain. Be unkind to no one, ever. Kindness isn’t a choice, it should always be the way and any part of myself that was unkind was heartlessly destroyed because it did not deserve to exist.
And the part of me that insisted on my killing myself? I strangled it with my bare hands for trying to suggest that I did not have a place in or beauty to give to this world. I struggled, to be sure. I have asked why me so often my throat has gone hoarse. I have clawed my way out of the abyss bloodied and broken more than once and wished it was all over, but still, I refuse to believe that I have nothing good to give to this world. I genuinely believe I am here for a reason, there are people around me that are affected in a good way by my existence. I believe I have more to do here yet. And any dark part of me that tells me otherwise has been destroyed.
Yes, I have killed myself many times. But only the parts of myself that caused me damage, that caused others pain, that told me my life was not worth living.
The universe made no mistake by creating me. And it made no mistake by creating you either. Kill the version of you that tries to tell you it has. You deserve every moment of the previous gift of life you have been given.
Never ever forget that. 
