[ WP ] In a world full of pessimists tell me a story about the life of the only optimist

I just sat there, Indian style, well actually, I guess Native American style, on the beautiful white floor. The reflection of the overhead lights are bouncing off the tile. I thought the room was set very nicely, very feng shui. There was a natural flow from my bed frame, which was made out of a rusted metal which shows that it has withstood the adversity of moisture in the air and is not giving up just yet, to the work space that has been allotted to me, which is ample, that is set to the tone of a pale brown wood paneling which is chipping away in a beautiful pattern, all the way to the toilet and sink combination, which is surprisingly water efficient and makes using the facilities a much shorter process and allows me some time to think. 
 
 I felt at peace with my situation. Every once in a while someone comes in to check on me. The conversation does n't usually last very long, but the notion of checking on me is helpful. It makes me smile from time to time. I may be alone, but I'm not lonely. 
 
 It does sometimes get difficult to move around in here because the space is a little cramped, but the more I think about it, it just means that I have become familiar with my living area and I know every square inch of this place. There are n't any surprises. 
 
 I was put in here by a judge and jury a few weeks back. I had seen a homeless man on the ground and he appeared to be shivering. When I got a little bit closer, I saw that he was actually bleeding. He had a laceration in his stomach and was bleeding pretty bad. He was moaning and wailing. I took off my overcoat and wrapped it around him and asked him to try to remain calm and that everything will be alright. I stopped the bleeding by taking off my scarf and applying pressure on the wound. I yelled for help and by the time the police got there with paramedics, the homeless man was unconscious. He still had a pulse, but it was fading. 
 
 I told the police what happened and they instantly threw me into a police car. I was arrested for attempted murder because they said there was no plausible reason for a total stranger to help a bum. They said I sounded insane when I wanted to help my fellow man and that I thought he could have survived. The trial showed the public that I slashed this man and tried to kill him, that the homeless man was the one calling for help, that I was only trying to smother the wound because I was trying to rip it open further and my scarf got in the way, and that he was wearing my overcoat so nobody would see a dead body, only a bum wrapped in a coat that he probably stole in order to keep warm on a cold December Monday. 
 
 During the trial, I was found not guilty by reason of insanity. The judge ordered me to be sent to an asylum and take prescription medication to level myself out, although he has no faith in modern science and thinks that all pills are sugar pills to induce a placebo effect, an effect that unfortunately, according to him, was not sufficiently backed by scientific research. I'm just thankful that I was n't sent to prison and that I wo n't have to find out if the rumors of how terrible prison food is are true. At least there's that. 
 
 So I just sit here in this asylum and think about what kind of a position I'm in. After all, things could be a lot worse. That homeless man could have died in transit to the hospital. They said that it was n't saving a man from being murdered; they said I failed in attempting the murder. I disagree, and I think that is why I'm here. In this world in this time, it is considered insane to think that a man survived a murder rather than thinking the murderer could n't even finish the job.
