I can’t.
I can.
Of course, I can’t.
Maybe I can.
What am I saying! I can’t.
I should probably try.
What’s the point in trying?
What’s the harm in trying?
I don’t know… I’m so afraid.
Of what?
Of letting myself down in front of others.
Letting myself down? Or in front of others? Which one is the major issue?
I think the second one.
You do realise that’s stupid to the point of hilarity, right?
Easy for you to say. After all you are the eternal optimist.
Easy for you to disregard me, you being the eternal pessimist.
The battle continues. I wonder if it’s like that for everyone. I wonder if everyone is plagued by extreme versions of themselves. Who wins, then? My pessimist made an appearance rarely in the past. Who knows? Maybe it’s because I haven’t had to make difficult decisions or take too many risks before. But the pessimist, when present, is potent and dangerously influential. My poor optimist’s claims come in bleak tones; I’m hardly able to hear her over the loud proclamations of the pessimist.
I think my pessimist is actually afraid of listening to the optimist. Because that would require her to take risks and put herself out in front of others, making herself vulnerable.
The pessimist first made an appearance some four years back. It was immediately after my optimist had had a huge victory. At first, the optimist didn’t really pay attention. But the pessimist was sneaky, and made her way into my heart slowly. Her roots became so entrenched that the optimist was forced away, and after a few feeble attempts, left me for two whole years. Ruled by the pessimist, I made mistakes, huge mistakes. I lost my peace of mind, my self-respect, love for myself. I became that person who needed others to assure her worth.
Two years passed, the time and the situation changed, and my optimist made her way back to me. But she was badly hurt, and couldn’t banish my pessimistic self out completely. Hence, since then, I’ve lived with both of them inside me. There are moments where both co-exist peacefully, but as soon as the time comes to take decisions or risks, a fight breaks out. And more often than not, the pessimist, supported by her deep roots, wins.
My optimist is questioning me today. With beseeching eyes, she’s asking me what happened to that girl of four years ago. She’s asking me why I let the pessimist win. She’s too powerful, I’ve answered. But it wasn’t so much her power as much it was my weakness. The previous years spent with the optimist have taught me not to have too many regrets, and believe me, I’ve tried very hard to not let go of that policy. But somewhere deep down, I regret losing against the self that was destructive to my personality.
I’m still afraid. The optimist tells me that it’s okay to be so. She tells me that it’s not about failing. It’s about conquering the fear. It’s very difficult to do so, she says. But not doing so makes the rest of the life even more difficult.
The battle is still on. But after a really long time do I see my optimist fight back with strong conviction. I hope she wins this time. I hope I won’t let her down.
The Writer's Nest 