In the past few days, I have learned that life is not at all that rosy nor beautiful.

There might be an abundance of poetry that celebrates how beautifully blue the day sky is or how magical and ephemeral love is, but these constructed representations of life are overrated — and lovers of life are obviously on their way to being jaded.

Sure, we might have a reason to smile every once in a while, but life in its entirety is dominated by heartbreaks, heartaches, and heartburns; it’s all a matter of when it will strike you. your idealism is bound to be extinguished, and your life is inevitably headed to its unceremonious demise.

These past few days have taught me that — and even when optimism looms larger than the pertrurbing stench of decay and death, sometimes, death swallows you whole and spits out whatever optimism is left of you.

optimism is only for the naive, it seems.

sigh.