Positivity

I was a worrier, once, when I was thirteen. I would lie in bed and dread the next day, and that page of English would pulse in my mind as though wedged between my right and left brain, leaving both hands paralyzed because surely this was what would stunt my academic growth. A funny thing happened, though, when things of actual consequence began to happen: I gained perspective. A page of work that may or may not get done became simply that, and a friend that may or may not get their heart broken became so much more. And then I had the benefit of looking back upon how I was, how I thought, how I would dread, and I could see with full clarity that that was no longer me. I could see that I was somehow other from that, somehow changed, and that I need keep changing. With perspective came optimism, because I began to see that, in the harsh light of eternity's glow-in-the-dark and ever-ticking watch, everything else was very dim and very prone to running down the batteries. When you see how small things are, how little it ultimately helps to think the worst and how small the fallout from each tiny cataclysm, you can't help but choose to see what's best, to search for it even. That the good is better than the bad is worse is a big realization. When you find that, you're compelled to seek out the good, and even to ignore the bad that doesn't do you any good. You start to assume that things will work out, that you'll be able, that God will provide, that what someone has done was an anomaly, or better yet a falsity. Some may call this naive, and perhaps they're right, but while they pride themselves with finding your flaw and feed the furnace that is their cynicism, you can hope they find a way to change, that they can find some peace, and you can smile. Smile.