hello, light and dark

I've been a pessimist for nearly my whole life. I only started taking a more optimistic approach on life a mere few years ago - after experiencing my first much-in-love relationship after which a crash-and-burn episode spurred me to get involved in a half-a-year programme of being buddy-buddy with the shrink.

Being optimistic is disgusting. It makes you all weepy when you discover that the little glimmer of hope is smashed up, yet again. Oh, but we never learn, we never do.

Hope. That's another word that disgusts me. Oftentimes I am at odds with myself as to this matter. Should I be hopeful or abandon all hope? The cynic side of me prefers to take the negative stand so as to avoid further pain (because I've already taken measures to be ready for it when it happens) but at the same time, I cannot but feel hope for something that may not even materialise.

I find a bread crumb in a forest and suddenly, I believe that I may find my way out after all? Stupid stuff. I'm not in some cartoon.

Why do I need to hope? Why do I hope? Why can't I just hold on to the belief that the end is always inevitably disappointing?

You know I am scared. I know that too. I have the option of not even putting my foot forward but I do, moving two steps to the front and going back a step. After all that shuffling back and forth, what remains is that at the end of the day I have still progressed a step. And that, for you, is proof that my hope for a positive end reigns.

Sadness is what propels me to hope for a miracle that can end it all.