The Pessimistic Optimist
by Evan Guerra
I am a pessimist. I am an optimist.
I’m the Pessimistic Optimist.
I am a child of strength, yet a coward whimpering in a corner.
I am a child of loyalty, yet a child likely to stab you in the back.
My hands have labored hard, but only for my own benefit.
I have given every inch, but merely not enough.
Where do I belong? I belong where I am right now. Confused and broken. I am deprived of all which makes you…better than me.
Where is the sunrise of contentment? Where are those storm clouds of resentment?
With a breath of fresh air I am whole. In the blink of an eye I am down in the dirt.
Simplicity is the womb of my inner perception. Complexity is all I seek to find.
Rivals of mine need not be wary, for I will lay down my weapons at the first sign of trouble.
I should be imprisoned for crimes of indolence. I should be given commendation for daring to dream.
I am abashed by all that I have done. I am regretful of nothing.
Every day I commit myself to a life of uncertainty. Every second I am omitted of struggle.
My pessimism brings out the worst in me. Optimism weaves a passage of enlightenment.
Without either I am an empty vessel, with no sails and no provisions.
Free me of pessimism, thus make me a soulless being. Crush my optimism and I will falter the entire way.
This poor frail me, so belittled by my contorted design.
Malignant disease won’t you eat away my apathy?
Leave me alone to bathe in my sorrow as you forge your lies as truths.
My pestilence is beauty. My honesty is filth, never to be trusted.
Ambiguity is my best friend, perfection is my worst enemy.
Irony, sweet irony, you have eased the sleepless nights.
Constant is the fear. Nothing is defeat.
I am born again with every minute wasted, murdered once more with every second spent wisely.
I have an aptitude for failure.
I have an agreement with death, no matter how hard I try, she will find me.
Hope has become as doomed as the future of the modern age.
Praise the pessimistic, for optimism, has made fools of us all.
Evan Guerra
*This is a work in progress from a book I intend to self-publish at some undetermined point in time. Please leave your thoughts on my writing in the comments. If you feel its absolute dribble and not worth anyone's time? Please let me know. If you don’t mind my writing? Please also do let me know. If there are errors in my writing? Definitely let me know. This piece is deliberately a drag at the end. Just to get you thinking. Thank-you.
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