Optimism. Naive, or Necessary?

Optimism. Naive, or necessary? 

There is a silly thing I've noticed about growing up. I've learned to choose optimism, even when being pessimistic is easier. Truth is, and I say truth lightly as most people don't choose truth since it can destroy the illusion, that we do not get to rewind time. There is no use for illusions anymore. I have big dreams and plans on making them come true. In another universe, I get everything I want, and my life falls into place like dominoes. Yet, there is no “in another universe”. It’s a sweet thought, but baseless. 

This is it. This life, this is all we get. 

Bittersweet isn’t it? Life is the hand that never stops giving but also the knife that never stops cutting. I take the wounds it gives me and turn it into love. All of that anger was once love, and it can be love again. Love has been my savior for as long as I can remember. In the darkest moments, I still hold onto it, and eventually it returns to me, tenfold even. Last night, I sat in the dark next to an open window by my bed, just thinking. Though the darkness begged on its knees to engulf me, I stayed upright, lost in thought. What will tomorrow bring me? Love? Anger? Creativity? Release? Resentment? I wondered … Can one lose themselves in translation? 

I realized, by that foggy window, stagnancy is so last year. I should let myself grow into my body instead of hating the process. I need to take the chances that reveal themselves to me, and fully indulge and immerse myself in my creativity. 

I’m tired of being existential, I mean, it’s common knowledge that death is inevitable, and that no one will disappoint you more than yourself ... But the harshness of it all can be avoided. I can learn to block it out. Can’t I? Is my deep rooted existentialism just existentialism or isn’t it nice to be gentle with yourself? To caress your own cheek every now and then, and reassure that girl in the mirror who’s just trying her fucking best? Why intentionally hurt her if her own conviction will already do it for you?

But really, how dare I ever think so low of myself? So silly of me to forget, I was the first love of my life. I was a growing girl who knew no growing pains. 

Best said by Sylvia Plath, what I want back is what I was.

There it is again.. that naiveness of a hopeful phrase. To say it out loud, and write it down knowing you can never go back to what once was. Knowing you can’t be that girl again, but that she is always with you. Painful, but undeniable. 

Flowers die and one day, so will i. Yet the world still turns and flowers still grow. 

With optimism, by looking through the lens of beauty and humanity, there is always a way forward.

xo, zo