Hope is the pillar that holds up the world…
How can I hope for acheivement if I do not possess the confidence to try? I constantly hope for you, I am optimistic about the future whether you’re there or not, and I always pray that one day I will have the confidence to actually do something about it. I hope that one day I will stop being a hypocrite because I am so tired of hearing myself tell you “just go for it”, when I’m too much of a coward to do it myself. Here’s the thing, though; I hope for so much more than the superficiality of my non-existant love life, but also for things far more expansive and close to my heart. I dream about the day that my sister will see her value beyond the brick walls of high school, I hope that my dad continues to find happiness across the world, and my heart strains for the idea of walking into a room and seeing my whole family sitting there…together. Some of my hopes are based in the clouds and some are as tangible as the keys beneath my finger tips, and while some are more feasible than others, I hope anyways.
We’ve all experienced hope and the emotions that it necessitates. You may have declared it a lost cause or believe that it’s intensity is useless, but regardless of your impulsive rejection, I know you feel it. I know you do, because the minute you crumple up your shitty day and throw it in the trash is also the minute you hope that one day you find it in yourself to hope again. It is easy to curse hope and punish it for it’s short comings when it doesn’t fulfill the words you once whispered to it, but the simple truth is that it doesn’t owe us anything, but rather we owe it everything. The wheels are going to keep spinning, we will keep falling, we will continue to go a million miles a minute, and while it all zooms past, we are going to hope that it will all slow the hell down. How do we expect to achieve a slower pace if we don’t have the confidence to plant our heals into the ground? Hope gives us confidence and confidence gives us hope, and they intersect at almost every cross-street.
I picture your shadow glistening off of the wet pavement as we reintroduce our lips in the pouring rain, I picture my sister laughing once she realizes the minimal impact of her four-year sentence to high school, and I continue to frustrate myself with my hypocrisy because I still haven’t gone for it, even though I tell you to, because I am fucking afraid of rejection. Someone’s rejection doesn’t die with you, (something I have to remind myself of all the time), and it won’t be written in dark letters on your gravestone, but rather it will die long before you do, regardless of the pain you may feel. I hope you know this, and I hope that one day I will believe it myself. Sometimes it takes kissing the person in the rain, or not, to understand the power of hope and it’s ability to withstand the doubts we pin against it. Hope is not a superpower but rather a form of positivity that transcends most of life’s catastrophes. Pain and hope are real, but something that indefinitely marks their difference are their relationships with permanence: Pain is temporary and it won’t die with you or be written on your gravestone, but hope…hope will not only be etched into the stones of your resting place, but also into every experience that you die remembering.
I annoy myself all the time, not only because I hope for things that I have no confidence to achieve, but because I hope for things that are completely out my control and it is in these moments that I try to reject hope’s indefensible power. We get mad when it doesn’t solve our problems because we expect it to work it’s magic in our most desperate moments, but it takes a little more faith and a little less expecting to understand that it doesn’t appear on our demand, but in the moments we least expect it. It is essential to acknowledge that while we may believe we are strong, we are completely defenseless in the face of the red-eyed monster of life. Life is extremely turbulent, and while there may be moments of “smooth sailing,” we are bound to feel the weightless, gut-wrenching air pockets we always hope to avoid. Here’s a little secret: I hate flying, and while it may seem a little too coincidental, I loath the air pockets, too. It is not the most convenient fear, especially as some of the most beautiful destinations in the world are just on the other side of a sixteen-hour plane flight. But I guess that is the point, though, and in the moments that I can afford a much-needed therapy appointment, my therapist tells me the same thing: You cannot expect to get anywhere without a little turbulence. The air pockets that employ the unavoidable tightening sensation in our hearts are the moments when hope becomes the most important. There are so many defining moments in our lives, some good and some bad, but these moments would not exist without the hope that was essential to get there and move on. The minute we lose hope is the moment we squander our chances to show the beast, “the red-eyed monster,” and the turbulence the strength of our souls…the strength that our hearts have spent so long exercising. I hope you see your value outside of a crummy semester, I hope that you find yourself outside of an un-returned phone call, and most importantly, I hope that you don’t let the turbulences you experience define the amount of beauty that lies within your journey.
The hopes that seem to float in the clouds, the ones that are as real as the keys beneath your finger tips, or the hopes that have seemed to go unanswered…they are all leading us somewhere. I guess the most frustrating part is that hope is not tangible. We are whispering our secrets and resting our trust in something that seems unintentionally flimsy. I have to constantly remind myself that some of the most powerful “happenings” in our lives are things that we cannot see. Hope will follow through, just not on our timeline and then one day we will look up at the stars and finally be able to say, “damn, so this was what it was all for.” Until we achieve this moment of clarity, we will continue to hope throughout the fogginess of our roughly paved paths. I hope that my sister will see her value beyond the walls of high school, and she will, but until it happens, I will continue to hope. Some of the things I hope for will probably never happen, but resting my heart in the hands of hope will continue to be a positive influence in my life. So, cheers to hope! I hope that you will hope, too.
…hope if the dream of a waking man
Inspiration for post: hope, friends and family, positivity, and the future
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