Why I love dumb YouTubers

When I was 9 and blogging was popular, my dad had a blog. I saw it and wanted one for the sake of having one, but I didn't know what to write. My dad told me that it was basically a diary that you post online that people can read. A diary is a ventilation system via which you write your deep, persistent thoughts that won't get out of your head despite your best efforts.

It's 5:07am and I have thoughts.

We'll start with a story.

When I was in middle school, I was horrifically depressed. Mentally, I was at rock bottom (at which, let's be clear, I have been since then). I hated everything. I judged everyone. The problem with my perceived elitism was the fact that I was surrounding myself with similar elitists who shared my perceptions of what elite really was, and it was incredibly specific and exclusive. Another problem was the fact that my true self was not up to the standards of the perceived elite. I judged other people for being depressed when I was equally depressed, if not more so. I scoffed at people who were "crazy" when I myself became very close to actually stalking someone. I wore the same thing every day for fear of judging myself with a negative outcome for being too flashy or, conversely, too conservative with my choice of fashion. I never wore makeup because I would never stoop to the level of the girls who want attention, when I myself desperately craved it and wanted nothing more than to feel wanted.

I hated everyone, and I hated myself. I was very anti-feminism, perceiving myself as inferior as a female. I avoided makeup, "girl" colors, "girl" music, "girl" trends. I inundated myself with things I didn't understand and things I didn't give two shits about because boys liked them and I wanted to be one because they had power. Boys liked other boys and I wanted boys to like me.

In 2010, Ark Music released the music video for Rebecca Black's Friday. It quickly became a meme. The hate flowed through me with purity. I perused YouTube videos, poking scathing fun at this teenage girl who was following her dreams. I came across Brock Baker's dub.

Through Brock Baker, I found Jacksfilms, through whom I found Tobuscus (I'm not including a link to him because -- whoops! -- he's a drug addict, alcoholic, and a rapist), through whom I found Markiplier, through whom I found Jacksepticeye and the Game Grumps.

Obviously this transpiration took time. To give you an idea, I didn't subscribe to the Grumps until late 2015. But with the change in subscription came the change of heart.

On his gaming channel, Tobuscus (aka Toby Turner) began ending every video with, "I love you." As a young teenager who had craved unrequited attention for several years at this point, I took it personally. Wow! I thought, Me! He loves me! It's really possible!

It was a slow, subconscious train of thought that went as follows:

So it's possible to love me. I am lovable. My parents aren't lying when they tell me they love me. You know who I've never heard say "I love you"? Any of the people I crave attention from. Those people don't love me. They don't even acknowledge my existence. But you know what? These YouTubers make videos thanking their subscribers personally, and acknowledging their existence as individuals rather than a mass audience or a number on a screen. They're acknowledging that I'm an individual rather than somebody who is unimportant enough to ignore completely. These people have never even met me, but they value my presence on this earth and in virtual space, which, although virtual, is still space. I take up space and it's worth something. I am worth something. I'm worth the space I occupy, I'm worth the air I breathe, I'm worth the money I cost, and I'm worth the fucks people give about me. I'm worth any fucks to be given in the first place. I'm worth enough to love. I can be loved. I can love. I am capable of love. Now I'm on medication and my mental health is improving. I'm receiving love which can be passed on. I've received enough love to value myself as worthy of not only taking it but also giving it. And if those people don't love me back, they're not worth my love, and I don't need to give them any more.

As Dan says, a person only has so many fucks to give. You have to be selective about how you distribute them. What I've found is helpful is the fact that you don't waste fucks on people when they give a fuck back. If you give a fuck about them and they give a fuck about you, it's a net loss of zero fucks. It was not wasted. Your time and your energy were not wasted. Your love was not wasted. You were not wasted.

It's why I want to be a YouTuber. I want to spread that same love to a wider audience than I can reach without it. I want people to know that they're loved. I want to give in the same way that I received. When I say YouTubers saved my life, it's not because they distracted me from suicidal thoughts. I never really had suicidal thoughts. They saved my life because they introduced me to one that believed it was worth something, and that it was worth the love that it could get.

I've heard many people say that "I love you" is a phrase that's overused. But if you take it apart, especially regarding the way it can make a person feel, even on the smallest atomic level, it's a healing statement. If you hear it enough times over the course of a period of time, it can change you. A single phrase can change your perspective.

It's not your fault. You are loved. You are valid. You are worth your space, you're worth giving a fuck.

And if nobody else says it in a way you believe, I want you to know that it's the truth.

I love you.