After half hearted attempts at flamboyant optimism,
I slowly began to wrap my fingers around the cup of realism;
and sipped, hesitantly, doubtful about the intensity of its heat, cautious of letting it scorch my tongue.
It’s lukewarm jolts charged me with electricity,
shaking every cell that constructed my being with unforeseen energy,
And I awoke, gasping and startled,
into reality and truth, beyond any doubt.
Having feared the likes of being realistic, l found this new taste of realism dangerous, tantalizingly dangerous-
but rather riveting for a girl with unrealistic dreams.
Having woken up everyday and gulped down fantasies about the future with my morning coffee,
The farther reaches of my want never settled down at places that lay at the length of my arms-
They settled far beyond them, miles away, out of my short, streamlined sight.
Shortsightedness, as you might be able to tell, never kept me too far from spreading out my arms,
echoing my thoughts and breeding relentless optimism.
For I always wanted things that I could never quite afford to have,
The magnanimity of which, I believed could brim my life’s empty, catastrophic chasms.
But now, having stepped into complete consciousness, after letting go of my futile whims,
my skin pricked for me to glide into a more realistic
sense of comprehension.
So I, therefore, slowly began to wrap my body around the idea of realism, cupping it, feeding on it as if a parasite,
and chugged it down into my being, now allowing it’s heat to completely burn my tongue.