Pessimism, Passion, and That Korean Thing: An Identity Struggle

Pessimism feels like my default setting – not by choice, mind you. My brain seems hardwired to jump straight to the worst-case scenario in any situation, maybe as a way to brace myself for trouble before it hits. I suspect it’s a defense mechanism forged in elementary school, where I was bullied for being chubby. (Picture a Teletubby who’d binged on too much McDonald's, then add frosted blonde tips because *NSYNC was huge back then – yeah, that was me).

Over the years, I developed a pattern out of this defensiveness. It made me resilient, adaptable even, teaching me how to survive and fend for myself through experiences I wouldn't wish on anyone – racism, corrosive self-hatred, emotional trauma, you know, all that good stuff. But this pattern had a flip side: I now realize it could also make me unconsciously off-putting.

And I have to ask myself, what purpose does this constant bracing serve now? Most of the time, nobody’s actually out to get me. (Okay, except maybe that strange lady last week who deliberately rammed her shopping cart into me with full force, clearly trying to get a rise out of me. Fortunately, it was a beautiful day, so I just smiled and walked away). Is the armor still necessary?

I often tell myself I'm a logical person, but I'm starting to see I'm far from it. True logic feels constant, unwavering. I'm... not that. I'm driven more by passion, which is far more erratic – like a petulant child throwing a tantrum in a grocery store aisle. When passion sparks, it burns purely to fuel emotion, flaring until it explodes like a supernova, leaving a vacuum and often destroying everything in its path. It's a beautiful disaster. And sometimes, honestly, so am I.