I almost always feel optimistic at sunrise, if I’m outside and alone. Pretty much no matter what has gone on the previous night, if I’m outside and by myself when the sky turns whiteblue and it’s no longer nighttime, I feel something that I can only imagine is hope. I feel as if things aren’t as awful as they could be. Sophia said a person can’t live without hope. She said it’s literally impossible. I’m not entirely sure if I believe that, but on a morning like this, following a night like that, I think I understand the idea.
I prefer not to think that it’s the cliche symbolism of a new day and endless possibilities, but I believe it’s that simple. And preferring not to think something that is absolutely true has torn my life into a ridiculous, entirely avoidable mess. My life and several others, twisted and smashed and poisoned simply because I choose not to believe truths that are right in front of me, staring at me. Screaming in my face to be seen and accepted and understood. And because I’d prefer not to think about the truth, about reality, I enable viciousness and violence. Because I’d prefer not to think about the truth, about blank, glaringly obvious facts, I commit viciousness and violence. I attack and I abuse and I frighten and I shame and I threaten and I lie. To avoid reality.
This is a horribly stupid way to behave. Stupidly horrible. I have inflicted pain and fear on every single person I care about simply to protect my delicate little ego and my carefully constructed, intentionally delusional fantasy world.
I don’t understand how I can feel optimistic and hopeful on a morning like this after a night like that. Except I do understand. It’s a cliche and it’s ridiculous and I’d prefer not to think it’s true, but I feel this way because of the sunrise.
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