Humans suck. They are a greedy, selfish, disgusting species. Who else hurts and kills others solely for the pleasure of another's suffering? Or to further their own fortune?
I consider myself an escapist. I became a writer because I loathe reality. I'd rather believe people are good, true love reigns, and the impossible is possible. Reality tells me otherwise. It whispers nasty things.
When I start to lose my faith in humanity, there are those people who comfort me when I cry, who buy me pizza on a bad day, who make me smile with a compliment, who sacrifice their time to be with me. I grasp onto these people because they're the most essential evidence of goodness in this terrible, terrible world.