Optimism is like silt, or dirt, or dust.
But either way it's very thin.
It's still a solid, not a liquid or a gas, but it's easy to just let slip through your fingers.
It goes away, wanting to fly, but it tortures you too.
It stays there, wanting to make the world happy, but still flying.
So you grab on to the bits and pieces and try to put them together like a puzzle, but it's really not that easy.
You'd be shocked at how immature people can be, no matter their age.
I always associated wisdom with kindness. Does that mean a few people are wise?
Little children, who don't have a care or hatred yet and still, must be the wisest of all.
I want to be young again.
I had optimism them, and it's a lot of learning how to hold optimism. When did I forget how?