I used to be a worry wart, an obsessive one at that. If there’s any discipline I think I excelled in, that would be the science of fretting. You see, I used to worry about even the simplest of things, about anything, about almost everything under the sun (and yes, even beyond the sun, for I used to be terribly worried about the universe too). I used to easily feel upset and bothered by the things that don’t necessarily concern me or affect me directly. I used to be so good at worrying that my being distressed about a teensy weensy pimple on my cheek could lead to an endless chain of negative, awful, horrendous thoughts that, more often than not, lead to my ultimate fear for the dawning of the end of the world (or the universe for that matter).
Yes, I always had to complicate things. I had an uncanny ability to make my life or somebody else’s life miserable because of my ridiculous “what if” scenarios. I have even convinced myself that I was quite good at playing the devil’s advocate, that I had the foresight to prepare for whatever disaster that would come along the way. But it was either that or I simply was the hopeless curmudgeon, the party pooper, the bearer of impending doom.
I’d say that I had much faith in Murphy’s Law that I’ve learned to brew my very own recipe for disaster. Like the oracle in Delphi, I could very well predict almost every conceivable catastrophic event that could happen to me at any given situation.
I was never the optimistic type. I always had the pessimistic and cynical frame of mind. I chose to see and dwell on the negative side of things. I used to look at a half-filled glass of water and see a half-empty liquid container. Whenever it rained, I complained about the mud that would get on my shoes. I never saw the musical rhythm of the rainfall, I only saw the murky puddles, I only saw the gloom.
I have, indeed, missed a lot in my life. The simple joys seemed too elusive. But it was my fault. I never took the opportunity to see the marvelous in ordinary things and circumstances. I never took the time to cherish and enjoy simple, precious moments. I never seized the day. I opted to stay back, to shut myself from the cruel, lonely, and dangerous world that I have come to know.
But realizing that life is too short, I've decided to throw away my dark, gloomy spectacles and resolved to look at the world using multi-colored lenses. I still see the gloom and dark, but I've learned to focus on the varied colorful patterns that make life interesting and worth living.
