Insomnia

Being disillusioned is so bittersweet. Even though you're so relieved to have the veil of ignorance stripped away, you're left staring with translucent eyelids at the ugliest and most hurtful of truths. And I think I'm addicted to this feeling of having spontaneous epiphanies. I am purposefully delusional to achieve the high of uncovering a mistruth.. weird.

But the boundary between delusional and optimistic is blurry, buried, and drawn on outdated maps. When am I basking in the bliss of delusional ignorance versus hoping for the best or dreaming big?

So this summer I've fallen in love with reading again. In high school, we did this exercise where we read most ( if not all of ) the works by a single literary genius. I'm repeating the process with my new found love, Mr. Kurt Vonnegut Jr. In Breakfast of Champions there's an anecdote about this bird. Its owner decides to grant the bird three wishes. One, he is let out of the cage. Two, a window is opened. But at thought of defenestration, the bird panics and flies back into its cage. The logic being, if it flew away it had nothing left to look forward to. So by staying in the cage, the bird retains its power for hope and imagination. Behind bars, he has something left to wish for. Though physically behind bars, his mind is free to wander the possibilities of the outside world. 

Most of the time, I am definitely that bird. I refuse chances to get out of my cage because I want something to look forward to. But someday, I should probably learn how to fly.