You look at other people and wonder what emotional wars they’ve won or lost. Wonder whether that pesky, er, perky office mate ever know what it’s like to watch her family go hungry. You look at this jolly, old fellow and try to find worry in his eyes. Sitting next to a stranger on a bus, and you randomly speculate if she had recently lost her husband.
Really, I go around in my mundane life and think: “It’s impossible I’m the only one who suffered loss and disillusionment.” Yeah, I know what they say about misery loving company. It’s more than that, though, at least for me. I don’t want company in my misery. Gosh, no. Anyone who’s ever been truly miserable at one point in life knows it’s a bummer to wish the same thing to another person. No. What I think when I’m at my darkest hour is that someone, somewhere, at one time, felt the same things I’m feeling. That makes me wonder if they’ve learned the same things I do; if they discarded the same ideals I used to cling to; if they shed the innocence, or rather the naivete, left from childhood and now cloak their selves with a heavy, protective layer of cynicism. I wonder if they, too, believe that there’s more depth to the way they see life now; if they think their rose-colored glasses have finally come off and they are finally seeing reality in it’s harsh whites and blacks and a million shades of gray. Do they feel smug for being taught the hard way?
I wonder how life as they know it, ended. And if it changed them for the better or for worse. I want to know what will happen to me now. I’ve got my colored glasses off, my cynic hoodie over my head, leaning on determination solid as a rock. Am I better?
Finally, my glad game begins. I have been playing this game for years now, and there’s really no challenge to it, until now. I mean, you can’t play the optimist if nothing bad is happening, right? Who plays a game without an opponent? Now, watch me turn this chaos into something stubbornly beautiful. Watch me.