The Best of Bianca's Pessimism

My usual disclaimer: Alas, the first paragraph of my EN12 memoir.

A few days ago I received my draft back from my teacher and I was absolutely mortified upon seeing that my work has been bombarded with criticisms. Her prime issue was that I lacked sensitivity. That is a trouble I am afraid I can not fix. If the Power Puff Girls had sugar, spice and everything nice, my memoir has sarcasm, gloominess and insensitivity. I don't really mind if calling Anaheim a bigot city or alluding to dead people as if they had no souls would diminish my work. You are probably thinking, "Wow, this girl lacks maturity. How stubborn" So nevertheless, I have decided to revise my work, as this is still an academic paper. Also, I would do it out of respect for that critic who might be my favorite teacher. She is much older, much wiser and a much skilled writer. Maybe she is right. Anyhow, I just want to share this first paragraph with you to share my current outlooks on life. I am now on the verge of pulling all my hair out as I attempt to revise such a soiled and nullified memoir, and I'm pretty sure many would soil and contest to these beliefs as well:

Pain is a very abstract concept. Its meanings could lie anywhere between pricking your finger with a needle and perpetual psychological torment provoked by incest rape. Most people detest whatever kind of pain there is. There are a few, on the other hand, who take the most deviant pleasure in it. This is a story of a girl who's stuck the middle. She doesn't weep over pain and listen to Evanescence songs while slashing her wrist, nor does she jump in joy and see rainbows every time the feeling comes. For most, pain is an ubiquitous, inevitable and invincible opponent. But for those like her who have attempted battle against pain but failed, pain becomes their best friend. Why battle something that would never go away? Its like an nagging mom, or that giant mole on your face-- there's no point arguing against for they will never leave you. Better yet, befriend them, flaunt them, show them off. Stop it with the attempts to be an optimist as I am definite of your failure. There are no such things as real optimists. The truth is, optimists are like clowns who mask themselves as happy beings to put smiles on people around. But on the flip side, clowns are even more melancholic than most others. In time you're gonna have to realize that life is and will forever remain like a Nicholas Sparks book; where the story's perpetual gloom would lead you to assume that a happy ending would come and save you from the tears you have wasted, but more often you are left disappointed as the lead character either dies, runs away, or completely forgets every single sweet thing you have done for her. Nobody lives a perfect life. Yes, lesson learned. So when everything seems to be going about perfectly, panic yourself out, as the circle of life and luck will surely break your bliss eventually.