The amount of clarity one achieves once the worst possible outcome has turned into your reality is unequaled. “What are the fucking odds that will happen?” is usually the story of my life.

At first it was like a joke of being over prepared; or borderline cynic. A ‘HA-HA, come on, let’s at least indulge ourselves with this scenario before moving forward. It won’t happen, but guys… Let’s play responsible.’

Now it’s: ‘Man, I’m telling you. This shit always go the wrong way. Let’s plan for the worst, hope for the best, and have Plan A,B,C,D… on hold. Because it will happen, and it will fuck us. Might as well bring some lube for the action.’

I sincerely do not with to participate again in the roll of the dice if something truly important is on the line. I’ll surely lose, and stray further away into the forest of pessimism.

Simpler times have fewer options to choose, minor consequences and lesser risks. Not everything is so final.

Why should good things happen constantly, when bad things are the most probable? That’s not being pessimistic, that’s just the reality of being alive.