Maybe.

It’s just another one of a human’s many flaws to be most attracted to that which they are deathly afraid of. Stupidity, positivity, courage? No, it’s suicide; taking a leap off the edge of a cliff when you know just how sharp the rocks at the bottom are.

Maybe we’re afraid of something for a good reason – you don’t go playing with fire if you’ve been burned once.

Maybe it’s also because that same fire could be gone in minutes and you’ll regret that you never played with it, even though you knew you’d get burned.

Maybe it’s true that all good things come to an end and you’d be better off they way you are, rather than being taunted by little fragments of joy you know will drift away in no time.

Maybe being afraid seems ridiculous in comparison to how beautiful it could be, if you gave it a chance.

Maybe the glass is half-empty.

Maybe it’s half full.

Maybe, today, you won’t give a damn.

Maybe, in the future, you’ll come back to me.

That’s a lot of maybes.

Then again, maybe for now it’s best that things stay as they are.

I don’t want to waste hours steeped in the misery of things I wish were mine.

I sure as hell don’t want to cry over you the way I did once; worthless, worthless tears.

I want to be speaking the truth when I tell someone that “I’m okay, everything’s fine.”

Reverting back to my pessimistic ways, I’d rather be the way I am than have you do this to me again.