People are…

“Beautiful,” says the idealist.   “We are beautiful because we are capable of love, of hope; of bringing salvation to the lost and confused.   We are beautiful because we are different from one another; we are beautiful because each of us is a unique flower in the garden of life, bringing color, complementing one another, and together accomplishing a resonating appreciation for that miracle which we know to be man   None of us are perfect but it is in the flaws and follies of others that we find comfort for our own, for it is our imperfections which are colorful, our imperfections which are beautiful.   And since we are but our imperfections, therefore we are beautiful.”


“Replaceable,” says the cynic.   “Who are you, really?   You think yourself a unique snowflake, no two the same, but though we may never be entirely the same, the characteristics of our personalities which we cherish to be our assets – our strengths, our talents, our emotions we dare label compassion – can always be found in someone else.   In the end, life is too short and humans too selfish to love anyone other than themselves.   In the end, you are as special as you are useful in satiating the hedonistic nature of that depravity we know to be man.   Disappear from this world, I dare you, and you will watch as the hole you leave is slowly filled by others no less special than yourself; you will watch as your presence fades and your legacy erodes.   And then how special and unique are you?”


“Disappointing,” says the pessimist.   “They are disappointing because they are unreliable and undependable, because the only person in this world who cares purely about what you want and what you need is yourself.   They are disappointing because they live with the attitude that each man lives for himself – survival of the fittest – and disappointing because this is the only way progress is made.   They break your hearts and they weaken your morale, and the few moments in which you feel the human race has an iota of hope only sets you up for the overwhelming blow when you come to the unfallible realization that to be selfish is to be strong and that when you do fall – which you will, being human – the only person there that will catch you is yourself.”


“People”, says the realist.   “Why waste time labeling what they are when you can find out for yourself?”