end rant – This is Not a Blog

A brief vent/rant that will probably make sense to none of you, but that’s okay.

I have never in my life been accused of being “too optimistic”. I’m much more of a pessimist tbh, to the point that I’ve been called “hopeless” and “seriously depressing”. So, if I’m optimistic about something, no matter how silly or little it might seem to anyone else, it means I’m trying. I’m trying to look on the bright side. To have faith that things might just go my way. That I can make things happen for myself or that the universe might just throw me a fricken bone. So for the love of God, don’t harsh my mellow. Could I wind up disappointed? Yeah, totally. Life is unpredictable and sometimes random crap happens that totally fucks you over. But I’m so tired of looking at everything like it’s all and exercise in futility. I don’t want to feel like any shred of happiness I might occasionally feel is pointless or that future sadness negates present happiness.

All I’m saying is I have a hard time letting myself feel hopeful and excited. I have a hard time experiencing joy. So if I’m excited about something or I’m looking forward to something, no matter how far away that thing might be or how many steps I need to take to get there, don’t try to put me in a “realist” mindset where I’ve got to think about all the things that overwhelm me to get there. Just let me have one fucking thing for the love of all that is good in this world. I just want one thing. I’m not “too optimistic” I’m just trying my best. You’re not looking out for me, you’re just pissing me off.

@maliciouslycreative replied to your post “I sure do write about the ocean a lot for someone who lives in a…”

You have to suffer the desert all the time, why would you want to write about it? I personally never write about the frozen wasteland around here.

You underestimate just how many people around here write about the desert around here. Like, they romanticize the fuck out of it. Which, okay yeah, it’s pretty but it also sucks. Sunsets are gorgeous but the rest of the day? It’s dry, it’s hot until all of the sudden it’s cold as hell, there’s sand and dirt everywhere and everything is brown. Everything. The plants are brown. The dirt is brown. The houses are brown.

There’s so much freaking local poetry about mesas and cacti and sunsets. It’s all lies. No one likes it here.

The only time I write about the desert is to bitch about how much it sucks to live in one. I’m not a strong swimmer and I don’t know much about the ocean but I’d much rather wax poetic about that.