Damn. Why is it downright effortless to be negative? Easy as flopping onto a sagging, old couch. At times I have to consciously will myself to maintain an optimistic outlook―like holding a mental plank position―whereas pessimism comes as freely as diarrhea. The wrong notes seem to ring loudest. A persistent pebble in a hiking boot spoils the majestic rockiness of the mountain.
In truth, things usually work out, and a statistically
significant number of people perform inspiring acts, so this default gloominess
perplexes me. Undoubtedly, life is a gorgeous light that I mean to burn
brilliantly for as long as the filament lasts (perhaps I should switch to an
LED). Nonetheless, my brain bends toward darkness.
Curvature of the mind.
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