revelation?

When reality slaps you in the face, you suddenly realise how fucked-up this world is. It’s just as well, Murphy’s law. One can’t blame anyone for being pessimistic, or at least a little over-realistic. Bad luck will always befall us on bad days, and in the end, pessimists always have the last laugh.
When you wake up from that good dream and realise it’s a lie…oh how much it stabs, and burns.
I thank and respect every single person who’s given me a little glint of hope, of expectance of better things, of good days with sunny skies and rainbows. It doesn’t hurt to try sometimes and your attempts never fail to work on me; I feel better, I feel a bit more secure, I love what I’m doing and go further with what I have. Happiness turns to passion, passion turns to love.
But the horrible truth is bound to creep back in, and when I come into awareness of that, every memory I have of these pretty polished optimists falls down to the very few bad times we had.
Some people can be so… hypocritic. Your facade is nothing short of perfect, and you’ve managed to strip me off all my dearest strengths and philosophies and plunge me into your hidden darkness, that where the horrifying revelation happens. I just don’t… believe this.
Will it suffice to say I thought I knew you better? I guess not. I probably never did, come to think of it.
Oh well. Fact is, noone cares. Should I embrace that as a joy or an agony?