I am an interminable optimist. I always think things will turn out okay. It seems silly to say that, at 55 years old, I am naïve; but in some ways I am.
I guess I’m just lucky; although, no, I’m not. My husband died and I can never consider myself lucky after that.
Mostly things do turn out okay for me. Except when they don’t. Then I let myself be pissed for a day and I try to move on.
I want to go on being optimistic. Even to a fault. It’s one of the things I like about myself.