The sad part about everything is that below all those fanciful dreams and wild hopes, I am a realist. Period. I am as real as they come. I can dream of things that will hardly ever happen but the realist in me doesn’t expect much to happen anyway.
I was never really like that. I used to have nice daydreams about things and I believed in fairytale endings. Now? I’d be happy to even get out of the existing hellhole that I seem to be stuck in. It’s like one day I got slapped in the face really hard and woke up as a realist. I see things differently now. I see the truth now. And doesn’t the truth always hurt?
Well. Being a realist does have its advantages because you’re not likely to take in anyone’s bullshit and you kind of think things through a billion times. But the downside is, you expect everyone to be a realist as well. When I see things that are just unrealistic and when I see people getting their hopes high over something that isn’t bound to happen, I feel like giving them a slap. Probably the same slap I got that made my thinking switch from dreamer-mode to realist-mode.
I am still a dreamer somewhere inside but until I’m not tied down to crap like this, that side of me isn’t really going to show.