Smart and Hopeful: A Dangerous Combination
(originally written January 2017)
Here’s the thing about me: I’m far from simple. I get attached easily and sometimes give 100 crickets each names. I cry when I knock a drawer off of a counter. I hysterically laugh when I’m sitting front row in Chapel. Every once in awhile, I accel in the weirdest topics- like Algebra II my senior year, or Biology my sophomore year. I am not a math nor a science person, but I have my moments. I like winter and I like heavy snowfall- even if it’s deadly. I cut my hair for literally no reason. I like the feeling that I get around people who believe in God but what I believe myself is easily questionable. I think crop tops are trashy even though once in a blue moon you might find me wearing one. I like poems that make me cry but I also don’t like poems that make me cry because they make me cry. I’m not very reasonable. I can think reasonably, but I’m not a very reasonable person. I let my emotions control me a lot. I feel a lot. I’m built on anxiety and sadness and bipolar disorder and weird immune system issues as well as chronic ear infections. I’m built on candy and cupcakes and poetry and movies and silly video games. I’m built on love and that feeling you get when you board an airplane. I’m built on realism but I like to lean towards surrealism personally, and I like the old poets more sometimes because contemporary poets can seem kind of pretentious. Sometimes I’m pretentious. I’m built on lack of body image until I reached the age of 18 and I’m built on inexperience and passion- and compassion, for that matter. I’m built on moments and glimpses and also the whole eternity in itself. I’m built on extreme optimism and extreme pessimism. I’m built on extremes. If I had to describe myself in two traits: I am extremely smart and extremely hopeful.
You always need to know where something’s going. You need to know what the outcome will be. The outcome, for you, is the deciding factor on how you portray yourself in a given situation. If you don’t know where something may go, or what the outcome will be, you simply don’t act, don’t portray, don’t give an answer. Seemingly, in your eyes, it is better to have no outcome in a given situation than an uncertain one. I asked you if you thought I was smart, and instead of saying “yes”, you said “sure”. I replied with something along the lines of “Yes, or sure? There is a difference”. Then you asked: “Where are you going with this?” before you could answer me with a simple “yes”. You were right in the end. The correct answer is yes. I am smart. I am not the smartest at math or science, but I am very smart. I am very smart and very hopeful- a dangerous combination, if you ask me. I am smart enough to see through you sometimes, but hopeful enough to believe you know I do. I am smart enough to know that sometimes you want to think negatively of me- and you try- but you can’t. I am hopeful that you know this already. I am smart enough to know I’m not a negative thing. I may be negative towards myself, and have a negative attitude at times- but I am not a negative thing in any person’s life. I am hopeful you know that you aren’t either. I am smart enough to know that you don’t want to talk to me. I am hopeful enough to ask anyways. I am also smart enough to know that the reason you won’t talk to me is because you don’t know where it will go. Which means I am also hopeful that you’ll try anyways. Blind hope is still hope, I suppose. You don’t know what the outcome will be. I know you, and I know that scares you. You don’t have to admit it to me, or even yourself. But I know you. You are spontaneous, yes, but you are also a person who needs certainty. I will not be able to promise a certain outcome if you ever agree to talk to me, which you won’t- because I won’t be able to tell you where I’m going with this- I am a certain person. I am certain of what I know and what I think but I cannot be certain of every outcome, and neither can you. Certainty is comfortable. You’ve always been the one to tell me to get out of my comfort zone. So now it’s my turn to tell you: Get out of your comfort zone. Every time I ask you to talk you respond with the same three words: “Oh my God”. Words mean a lot to me. You know that. There are thousands of words in the English language and I know you know more than those three. Say something else. You don’t need a certain outcome to give a certain answer. If you asked me if I thought you were smart, I would say yes without hesitating for one second about why you wanted to know. You are smart. I will not be unsure whether or not you are smart. I know you are. I am hopeful that you know that, too. So if you ask me, I will tell you. If you come to me in the future and ask me to talk or anything for that matter- I will respond with “Oh my God” but then probably say yes because that is just the type of person I am. You know that my heart aches for you. I am smart enough to know that you know that my heart still aches for you. I am hopeful that you won’t use it against me. I am smart enough to know that you know I still write about you. I am hopeful that you wonder what those words are from time to time. My words deserve to be read. Every last one of them. I am smart enough to know that you don’t love any part of me or my words anymore, but I am hopeful that somewhere you still do.
I am smart enough to realize you avoid me and don’t get too close to me because you don’t want me getting hung up on you again. I am hopeful that you soon realize that avoiding me, and not getting too close to me, doesn’t change a damn thing about how I feel about you. You can’t make me hate you, no matter how much you want me to.
I am smart enough to realize that you probably still care about me in one way or another, and I am hopeful that you will let me know that you do, so I don’t have to keep going back and forth between my mind and my heart whether you care about me or not.
I am smart enough to know you will roll your eyes at this and probably say “Oh my God”, but hopeful enough that you will least laugh a little when you say it.
Intelligence is in the mind, and hope is in the heart. It is simpler to live with one or the other, but I never intended to live a simple life, for I am far from simple. I am smart enough to know the mind is not simple, and hopeful enough that the heart is.