The world wasn’t made to nurture hope and optimism, and I’ve come to this conclusion after years of watching hopes deep within others wither away. Through political stress, financial burdens, and an overwhelming sense of fatigue birthed from it all, it feels as if belief in a greater future has been lost. It has saddened me to witness, and growing up I could never grasp why this was so. In my childhood, I thought everyone was my friend. That there was, in everyone and everything, honesty, kindness, and respect—an inherent good. I’d walk with pep and give out any information with blind trust. Despite my father’s earnest warning—“the world’s not all sunshine and rainbows”—I continued on with my optimistic journey, looking at the world with hope.
This mindset held up until the tail end of 2024 and the first few months of the new year. I had a lot going on, more than I can express, and I was unaware that my optimism had begun to chip away. Suddenly, I found myself believing things I had never subscribed to previously: people are premeditated liars, the corruption present in the world overrules the integrity of the few, and one day it’ll all beat me down until I’m like the masses I bear witness to.
It all boiled into a rich bitterness that seeped into every aspect of my life. I found myself wandering the frozen December and January streets in an aimless attempt to find something to hold onto. As if I would come to a grand realization—a fix-it-all solution that had somehow been evading me. The only thing I found was a yearning for what has been: my memories, my love, my unwavering hopeful stride.
I’d go to school, be at home, interact with those I was obligated to, and retreat into the sanctuary in my mind. My inner life was where I existed. I’d explore art, music, and conversation. I’d think about my future and what it could look like: the trinkets collected over time, the state of a broken world, and the endless possibilities of failure that lead to success. I’d get lost on purpose here—patting around my mind, soaking in the warmth of potential—before I had to leave for reality. Though I felt hope failed to make an appearance, it worked in the shadows to keep my going.
As I wandered further into the new year, that sneaky inner hope began to slither its way back into my field of view. Small coincidences and conversations sparked more faith, starting a chain reaction. More importantly, I started to make the conscious effort to choose to look towards something instead of standing still. I had finally realized just how bleak I had allowed my existence to be.
I strive to never find myself in such a place again, though I know it remains possible. I find this to be the key: an awareness and readiness for hardship, but a will and belief for greatness. I believe in a better tomorrow, and that, as a collective, we must earn it through hard work. I believe in community and relying on others when you need to. I believe in justice and the truth and pursuing the purest forms of these concepts. I hope to hold doors open, smile, give gifts, forgive, and accept what is while working towards what could be. So, yes, I optimistically believe in good, and an inherent one at that. Even if so much in the world works to prove otherwise. I refuse to let myself, others, and this beautiful, full of potential world, turn grey. Though some view this mindset as a soft weakness, I view it as an invaluable tool—a channel to bring forth the extraordinary.
