I have a distorted, romantic vision of all the “could have been”s

Yep. As simple as that.

I look into past events which may not have been the most pleasant ones I have gone through; grab a gigantic tin of pink paint and throw it all over my memories – butterflies and glitter included.

What an idiot.

But I guess I am not the only one. Yes, I know; generalizing or finding comfort in the misfortune of others ain’t the best strategy to overcome one’s issues. It is escapism. I am aware of that.

However, I need some form of consolation. 

The idea that all past events were somehow better is like the idea that the grass is greener on the other side; it’s just a matter of perspective. What looks green for me may be a sickening overload of nature for others. Additionally, let’s not forget that the mind is a tricky shady abstraction and that we have no idea how to even start really grasping all that’s about it. Memories are not real, emotions get tangled, facts are forgotten or forsaken… and we end up being a pile of bones squatting at the corner of our room, sobbing while strongly holding our heads. 

Certainly, the “could have been”s carry all the weight of expectations and fantasies. But as pop culture has taught us – well, ideally it was Buddhism, but you know how pop absorbs it all – expectations are not a good thing, they are the root of all suffering. So again, the line is thin and confusing; where do we stop dreaming? 

I have no idea. 

I think bathing all the turbulent past episodes of one’s life in furious pink is a survival mechanism, a way to cope. Otherwise, the dark shade that reality tends to paint life with would be too much to carry on our shoulders. 

No idea, honestly.

Maybe it really is a matter of perspective; and I’m just too melancholic.

 

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