Story of an optimistic person

Once upon a time, there was a girl. She was just like all the other girls. Nothing different. Pretty, good in studies, always smiling, loved her life, average middle class girl with big dreams. There’s nothing new here. We’ve seen thousands of girls like her. We’ve heard thousands of stories like this. And this is her story. Story of an optimistic person. But she “was” an optimist. What about now? Well I don’t know. I don’t hear from her anymore.

But let me tell you this, she was the girl who believed in magic, who was an optimist, an extrovert, the girl who always said to smile, who believed in friendship, who believed in love, who was never serious about anything, who painted rainbows on the last page of the math notebook, who sang romantics to herself when she was alone, who danced in the bathroom, who was never punctual, who was always late, who cared for everyone, who trusted everyone, people laughed at her but she didn’t care, who talked and talked and talked, talkative as hell, who was hard to understand, perfectly imperfect, who found beauty in everything, who never gave up on her dreams, who always listened to her heart, who was a daydreamer, absentminded, who never heard what you just said, who had so many friends, who made friends with everyone she met, who loved to meet new people, who read fantasy books, who had her own world inside her head, who laughed out loud, who was a little dumb maybe, or immature, child by her heart, who was a little weird and a little psycho and completely insane, who was lost in her own thoughts, who laughed, who loved, who lived.

She was the kind of girl who will make you fall in love with her.

But I’m very sorry to say she is no more.

Yeah, you heard it right. She is no more. She died. There is another girl I know, who looks just like her but she is completely different. She is selfish, only cares about herself, hardly has two or three friends whom she doesn’t trust, hardly speaks to someone, introvert, pessimist, too much practical, stone hearted, barely smiles, who doesn’t like to meet new people, who doesn’t believe in friendship or love.

Sometimes I think they two are the same. Maybe she is the same girl who changed. But why? I guess, because of people, because of her friends.

It hurts for an extrovert, an optimist, when people say they talk too much, when they are said to be quiet, when the whole world laughs at them, when everyone judges them because they have thousands of friends, when they are labeled as “Idiot”, when they are misunderstood for their kind behavior.

Because this is who we are! We are like this only. Yes, we talk too much, sometimes we say something too silly or dumb, sometimes we make fool of ourselves, we may be imperfect but we are real, we may be not much practical but no one can beat us when the matter is about “caring”, it may be possible that we have met just two minutes ago but we will talk to you like you are a member of our family, we will trust you blindly and are the purest people from heart whom you can trust blindly, we are jokers that’s right, but at least we make you smile.

Sadly very few are left of us. And many are dying everyday because of you. She was same. She died. She was an extrovert turned into an introvert, an optimist turned into a pessimist. And it still hurts to not to be herself, but it hurts less. And now, she requests everyone to never let an optimist die, to never let a hope die.


Riddhi Panchal


Writer. Graphic designer. A true artist by heart.

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