Yesterday I had this long talk with someone, and for once it wasn't the usual nonsense, though I thoroughly enjoy that. We somehow got onto the topic of how I had high expectations for life despite how pessimistic I sound at times and how that was good, to a certain extent. Though we eventually went on to come to the conclusion that my level was not healthy.
"But you know what, it'll be okay, I'll learn to accept life for what it is, I'll try my best to take what I can from each experience I encounter in life, good or bad. One day I'll learn the beauties of love and on day I'll learn the hardships of it all. I'll learn about all the great things society has to offer and I'll learn about the slums. I'm not going to have this all down now, but I'll try, and hopefully this will help me in the end. I hope that at least by the time I'm on my deathbed, I'll be able to look back and life and be content with it."
But then it came back to bite me in the ass today when I felt just enraged at the world and was sitting at a bench in front of a community center crying my eyes out while two little kids watched me..awkwardly. I know that I told myself I'd take something from that, but it's hard to when you have no cares for if the world suddenly just caught on fire and went through combustion or something.
Eventually I bsed my way through this promise to myself and formulated something I could take from this downer in my day: the fact that I can afford to be upset about such small things shows how easy I have it. Life is so good to me to the point where I can be worried about the small things; things that wouldn't even cross the minds of others who have to deal with much worse.
I guess I can look back at this and realize that life wasn't that bad to me.
