i used to think of myself as an optimist: one who sees the best possible outcome in everything.
but i realized that optimism unfounded in reality is not just pointless, it's self-defeating.
and so i decided to be realistic.
but there is actually no such thing as realistic.
reality continues to confound me in unpredictable, unforseen ways.
sometimes, when i realize this, i become pessimistic.
at other times, i just choose to ignore the realization and plod on, mindlessly.
eat, sleep, work, repeat.
at those times, i try not to think too much. because when i start thinking, i can't stop.
what's the point of it all?
what happens when the things (i use that term loosely) that are supposed to give meaning, actually end up taking it away?
it's a strange place to find myself in, and i find myself in the same strange place time and again.
perhaps it's still time to eat, sleep, work and hope i can keep this repeating until things change. in my head, or in the world around.