Imagine. Rags turn into riches, misogyny becomes a foreign concept, anti-semitism ceases, and differences in all faiths are resolved. Israel's war-torn state evolves into a thing of the past, and Christians and Jews in Jerusalem worship side-by-side, their unity creating an almost-impeccable halo. Haplessness has seemingly disappeared, yet my eyes still glaze over when I look upon utopia.
The "glass half-full" movement is now taking the world by storm, almost tying the rope of security into a noose. I look at the glass and will it to shatter. Some look at the glass and wish it were filled with poison. What started out as a mannerism to enjoy life's simplicity has diminished into a sickly sweetness to mask blatant turmoil.
Just as a person gradually finishes a glass of water, gulping in increased thirst, optimism serves as a method of survival for all. For some, it is the sole entity that drives throughout the day. For others, it conceals internal unrest and keeps them off the brink of darkness. Increasingly so throughout the 21st century, the latter scenario has been the case. Fear to confront our own issues head-on has led us to use optimism as an instrument for self destruction.
An overwhelming 48.8 percent of millennials say that climate change and destruction of nature impact our world with the greatest severity, while large scale conflict ranks number two with 38.9 percent of millennials. Although we acknowledge these issues' existence, failure to actually act upon them comes back to hurt us in the long run. Growing up in such a time and environment in which resources are readily available for our disposal has caused an "ignorance is bliss" scheme to rise upon our generation, leading to adoption of mislead optimism. We now believe that chaos resulting from our own mistakes will be resolved by those older or "wiser" than us and that issues will magically be reversed without our influence.
When will it be our time to take the stand and revert our wrongdoings?
In a perfect world without major wars, without poverty, without lack of economic opportunity, will we still require optimism? If optimism prevents us from addressing current issues, would a bit of pessimism be adequate to get us through a utopia?
According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the definition of optimism is "a doctrine that this world is the best possible world." In an alternate reality where our problems seemingly vanish, optimism would dictate that this version of the world is not the ideal one for human habitation. In this world, inhabitants would turn into savages and battle for the glass of water. Simultaneously thrusting their arms over each other, digging their nails into one another to obtain it, humanity itself would be lost. The once-transparent glass would become stained from the layers of grime from human hands, and water would spill on inhabitants as the glass would shatter from violence.
Happiness is beneficial in small doses but detrimental in large quantities. In a perfect world, an overdose of joy would cause utter destruction, causing society to revert back to its original problems. In the roaring twenties, the economy was booming which gave people a false sense of happiness. However, their overspending and false sense of financial security lead to their own demise. From past events in both history and in fiction, large quantities of optimism and happiness have led to suspicion in the high level of perfection, causing the world around the society's inhabitants to crumble before their very eyes.
Optimism's delicacy is not a force to be reckoned with, as it serves as the puppet master to our lives. Although we have the power to bend it to our own will, it has the power to revert to its original state and crush our problems, along with ourselves, into fragments of what they were before. The hypothetical utopia that many believe to emerge in the future made its presence long ago, fueled by the influence of optimism constantly rearranging the positions of its puppets and their thoughts.
Today, I stand before the glass, wary of its surroundings. The tranquility of it all makes me uneasy. The sun seems to shine brighter than ever before and concentrate its light almost solely on the water inside, creating a slight rainbow effect. Suspicious, I lie flat down on the ground in front of it, almost in a position of utter devotion. At first, its sheer beauty frightens me, but with time, I learn to appreciate it and almost bask in its transparency. Soon, I grow thirsty for a taste of its delicacy and reach out to it to take a sip of water. With one touch of my finger, the glass explodes before me, and a single shard wedges itself in my eye.
