The optimist is half alive. The pessimist hates to be breathing. People are nothing but emotions placed on either side of a scale. One more feeling to throw you off balance – both ways. A kiss on a heart in love; soft, warm, honest. Reach another level of happiness in a second and make it last a lifetime. The way we couldn’t keep our hearts beating in time. Yours was running ahead with our love while mine was leaping backwards – two steps at a time.
A shot through the heart can make you cross the line you drew for yourself. One step further into the arms of trepidation. Afraid that the light at the end of a long dark tunnel is nothing but a train coming your way. A freight train transporting all the shit that has been thrown at you. Packed in containers. Each of them given the name of a memory, an experience.
Mistakes are sealed in boxes we unpack from time to time: a reminder of where we went wrong in our lives; a warning to those we care about not to walk the same paths. Although sometimes we have to let them run, let them get burned by the flames, let them fall victim to the fires.
When the king becomes a beggar and the queen becomes a whore they are done for good – lost, desperate, destroyed, dead…inside. Still alive. Once I read a book saying losing everything is the ultimate freedom. It enables us to do anything though it never promised happiness. But still… Once we die we have to let go. Or do we have to let go to die? Is there optimism in dying?
Is there optimism in dying? What do you think?
Is your glass half full or half empty?