Thursday, June 6, 2013
Eternal Optimist. Contrary to popular belief, this is more a curse than a blessing. With me through it all, thick and thin, up and down, crawling through the dark abyss or running across the mountain tops, it is a heavy burden. My optimism. It always keeps hope alive, even when I need to let it die. I cling to things, knowing it will get better, when it won't. I talk myself off the ledge when there is no one else to do it for me, as I talk others off the ledge when I would rather crawl into my shell and weep with sheer misery. Optimism does this to me. It keeps my heart wishing, hoping, dreaming, desiring, where it has no right or reason to do so. Optimism makes the happy horseshit scenarios play through my mind on an endless loop, even when I beg for them to stop. Eternal optimism brings misery and heartache more often than not. Eternal optimism makes it hard for me to turn my back and walk away. It whispers, "Where there is life there is hope." But the reality is that sometimes, often times, optimism leans precariously close to delusion. It lies to the logical, plays to the emotional, misleads the practical. Optimism lies. Not always. But often. My eternal optimism allows me to lie to myself, lead myself on, buoy my spirits, lift myself up just in time for another stumble. I wish I could trade in my eternal optimism for a more healthy realism, but that has never been who I am. I am sure that soon enough, my eternal optimism will convince me, once again, that this time it will work, this time everything will go smoothly, this time I will have the happy ending. Honestly though, I am losing faith. Even the eternal optimist can only handle so much. But ask me again in a few weeks, I'm sure the happy horseshit will be back.