I'll bury myself with it

I can't help but sometimes like a lie more than truth. I get a feeling that I'd be more happy hating someone for something they didn't do than hating someone and finding out they aren't as bad as I had hoped. Does that make me a bad person? Is it better to live in a happy lie than a miserable truth? What you don't know can't hurt you, but what you can find out will kill you. Often I would just like to believe that everyone is horrible, everyone is deceitful, and everyone has an ulterior motive. I want to believe that they did something wrong to me, that they're lying and I can't trust them, because it would pain me so much to know that they were telling the truth and I still resented them. I won't say that it isn't sad, to have to hate someone to forget about them, but it is helpful. Replacing emotions of sadness and loneliness with anger, frustration, even hatred. It might not be right, but it helps. How much more it hurts when you find out you've been blindly hating someone that has shown only loyalty to you. Perhaps it's better to never have known. Backstabbing, lying, betraying, things that every human has experienced at least once in their life, are emotions that are best returned in kind with distrust, resentment, and distance. Is it worth it to stay inside of your shell and be safe, but never experience life outside your tomb? All the things I've learned, I've felt, I've lived have made me into the person that I am, but am I a good person? The ignorant man who knows nothing of betrayal, kept safe in their mothers wing, know little of anger, of dejected feelings, or of loneliness, but does that make them happier? Not knowing of the world beyond? I don't know, and I think it's safe to say I may never know, but I will say that we are who we are meant to be, we will always be who we are, perhaps with slight variations, but from the time we were born to the moment we die, we will be the outline that was intended, and the choices we make decide whether we become the best versions of ourselves, or the devil himself. And that is my hidden philosophy in a tea cup.