I cannot decide who I am – an optimist or a realist. Probably I am a little of both (aren’t all of us) but recently, I feel like there has been an almost imperceptible, but yet significant, shift in my standing between these two extremes. And I cannot quite put my finger on it.
The exuberant optimism of my early 20s is definitely a thing of the past. It is not coming back and I don’t think it is a bad thing. It was a misinformed kind of optimism anyway. Heady and happy but not wise.
At the same time, I do not understand the mild but perpetual melancholy so many of my peers are suffering from. It seems unnecessary and self-indulgent. It doesn’t seem sustainable to me, at least not without a conscious effort to nurture it. It seems too much work and frankly, rather absurd. On the other hand, it can also be very real.
Actually, is this even something that I can decide?
Now that I think about it, this is definitely not important enough for me to be writing about it at 3 am.
I think I may just be bored.