Prove me wrong

There are times you wish you were wrong. That the risk you took – seldom without overthinking – would pay off. That the impulsive leap you made would result in you landing softly somewhere. That what you feared would be the worst outcome would not be realised.

But overthinkers tend to have all possible scenarios considered. It’s not true, though, that they are shielded from pain because of this. It’s not true that they don’t get hurt because they saw it coming and you’re just proving them right. It’s just as hurtful – even more so – because you so desperately want to be wrong. You want that slight chance of everything defying your fears and turning out so much better. You desire that rarity of a happy ending.

Charles Bukowski had said that “sadness is caused by intelligence; the more you understand certain things, the more you wish you didn’t understand them”.

More often than not we try to escape life to run away from the reality we refuse to accept. We usually know what we ought to do, how we should act, how certain stories of our life will play out. But we obstinately deny it. We have difficulty in acknowledging the facts, because when our emotions are combating our rationale, we are guided by our feelings not our mind. It takes time, but the longer we resist, the harder it gets to let go.

And in the end, we are left with that incessant, perpetuating, yet constantly unanswered question: what if for once things turned out differently, contrary to all odds, to all predictions, to all expectations?

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