Optimism

I lay here, with all my weather books laid out over my bed. I roll around under my covers, enjoying how the soft rivets and warm ripples of my blanket softly caresses my arms and my legs. I smell the aroma from my neighbors' cooking mixed with the stench of my old clothes left unwashed. I stare at my blank TV that's not even hooked up to an outlet, my hats all organized with shape and color coordination, my books and clothes none stacked up and hung, the weights that have been collecting dust, and the garbage of orange peels, beef jerky, and pieces of chips ransacking my room from the top of my bed drawer to the door. I can only laugh at the idea that I will clean this mess out tomorrow after my morning jog.
I walk over to my window, pressing my warm mind against its cold pane. Gently pressing my forehead against it, I gaze into the skies above me. Stars form the Courageous Leo, the Stealthy Scorpio, and the Mighty Orion. I think nothing, but only of their valiant features and their heroic attributes. They rule the galaxy with might and force, and sparkle their characteristics of charisma and faith onto this Earth for those like me, who wish to exactly the same.
I pull back to close the blinds. I then see a reflection of me, a young man. I see a troubled and angry man, scorning into the night, with his face scrunched up with waves of frustration and and eyes focused with aggression. I take a silent roar behind my gritted teeth, and the window reacts with a mist, removing this aggression. As it slowly disappears, I see the glimmer of the stars, those heavenly constellations. And they moved, moved to outline something of a face. A face of serenity and passion. A face of leadership and compassion. A face of joy and optimism. A face of a man, a face that supercedes my own reflection.