My half empty glass
Usually when I sit down to post a blog I take my time, organize my thoughts, and try to write in a smooth and poetic fashion. Not today, though. A lot has been on my mind these days. College, my career, my future, the annoying fact that the Bengals have opted to hire Marvin Louis again. But I can’t seem to rid my mind of pessimistic and overall disparaging thoughts. I have come to the not so surprising realization that I am probably the most cynical mother fucker I’ve ever met.
It’s as if hope is a far off and outlying idea meant only for me to gaze at longingly from a distance. I’ve accepted this, though. Embraced it, even. The only aspect of my cynicism that I flat out don’t understand is the source.
Holden Caulfield was misunderstood and neglected. Rorschach was abused and bullied. Dr. House experienced deep emotional and physical pain. But me? I live in a nice house with loving parents who have never failed in providing me with everything I could ever need and more and this fall I am attending college to further my education so as to improve my overall quality of life in the future.
So what is the reason for my deep rooted cynicism? Why do I feel the need to look at everything and everybody with absolute contempt? Why is my glass always half empty?
I don’t know the answer to these questions. But within the past few days I have learned things about people. Truly heart breaking things. And I can look at their life full of misery and despair and still see smiles, laughter, and hope shining through. But I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why it is that my view of the world is so potently negative.
I don’t mean to come off as depressed or suicidal or anything like that. Because I’m not. I just lack the hopeful demeanor that I so frequently see in others. And I desperately long for it.