Hope

Hope is a funny thing.

We can build these edifices so high from absolutely nothing. We're given this small glimpse of light and our hearts go crazy with it. We imagine the way it must look from heaven. We count our chickens. We tell ourselves, "this is the beginning of the rest of our lives." And from what? All from a glimpse.

But isn't that what Hope is? Isn't Hope the dream and plan and idea that we can attain heaven? That it's possible? That one step by one step we can get there?

So many times in my life I've been dealt a hand that I hardly even wanted and barely even liked. I've done things that were only satisfactory, "doing it to waste my time" sort of things. And even though they were just that, for some reason, my heart still hoped. For some reason, even though I didn't want that shitty path or I told myself I didn't care, I still hoped.

I hoped that it was meaningful, that it was a baby step in the right direction, that it was the first day of the rest of my changed life.

But because it's hope and it's only based on clues and glances and empty clouds of imagination, it means nothing. And it helps nothing. And I'm not where I want to be. And hope may have feathers or wings but only so that it can fly away at a moments notice.

Leaving you alone and destitute and distraught and desolate.

Leaving me back at the beginning, at square one, with nothing but more work ahead of me.

Hope is a funny thing. Hilarious, in fact.