A World in Technicolor

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2011 must have been the Titanic of all shipwrecks for me, but I’m pretty sure I would have also said that about every other year before 2005. You say pessimist and I say realist. The thing with always seeing the glass half empty is that its excruciatingly tiring. You are on constant alert to be disappointed. Every good little thing to come out of a situation I blamed on the pretext that disappointment would be sure to follow, and more often than not, it came like clockwork.

We are all but flawed and my Achilles heel was negativity. Since my early teens I’ve been lurching around with the weight of the world’s sorrow on my shoulders with a perpetual raincloud hovering above. I guess some part of me knew this might have been an unhealthy way to live but my mind managed to rationalize that this was in actual fact my defence mechanism. I secretly scoffed at happy people, not realizing that I was the one being dealt the short end of the stick.

So then came 2012 and I had not only dragged my feet so deep into the ground but the raincloud had now manifested into a vicious tornado. I was so tired. Disappointments persisted, opportunities seemed bleak and life had resorted to a matching shade of grey.

All it took for me to win colour back again was a simple moment of truth. You say epiphany and I say a simple moment of clarity. Like a light bulb going off in an old cartoon, I sat up one Saturday morning and shook the negativity right off. It was as simple as that.

It was nothing but a conscious decision to be happy. Not aspiring for happy at 30 or 45 but being happy today, here, on the verge of 27, with still so little to my name.

I showered and got dressed, picked something cheerful and bright as opposed to my predictable black. I guess it didn’t really matter if it wasn’t as slimming, I didn’t have the weight on my shoulders anymore and I wanted something I could twirl about in.

Ofcourse remnants of negativity still lingers. They mask themselves as rationale thoughts but I wont be fooled any more. I stared them down with hope and faith. Hope and faith felt like long lost relatives that never stopped caring for me and I was all too pleased to be reunited once more.

Now that I have my coloured glasses on, the world does seem like a beautiful place to be in and such interesting times it is to be alive. For a writer, inspiration seems plentiful and I have finally found my way back to the pen.

I thought about what it really is that makes me happy and its like that crossword puzzle clue, I just could not put my finger on it. Do you need something to be happy about? I’d argue not today, as I sit here smiling like I’ve just been shot a dose of endorphins.

It’s the decision for me, the one I held back from making for almost a decade now. Who knew I was indeed the master of my own destiny (should have listened to my mother).

I enjoy this foreign feeling of happiness. Succumbing to it isn’t as difficult as it is choosing to be unhappy and while you do get the occasional uneasy stare from bystanders, let it conclude with a sincere smile. A smile that is genuine and true is contagious and can possibly help the person next to you find their perpetual rainbow too.