All of us hope. It's what makes us human - the ability to hope. We all hope in something bigger, newer, healthier, richer, better. The joke is that we seldom, if ever, find these things. But when we do it is extraordinary. I believe in life extraordinary. I always have. I hope in life extraordinary. I don't know if I do anymore.
This hope is shaped like a glass ball. One that catches light and glistens brighter than we realise until it's dark. Hope is easily broken, though. As time passes and we are disillusioned or disappointed, we are dropped. Pieces - sometimes mere shards and at other times chunks - are lost. Until one day we realise all that is left is one little sliver of glass. A bit so fragile and fragmented that holding onto it takes everything we have. But we can't hold onto it, can we? Because hope is giving away. It is taking it and relinquishing our right to it. Then in one instant, we see it crushed. Finished. Broken.
And in this split second we know. We know it is gone. It is over. In us something is torn to asunder.
When hope is gone, how are we meant to wake up, eat sandwiches, drive in the car, listen to music, smile politely, make non-sensical chit-chat, drink coffee, read, watch television, laugh, cry, feel? Hope doesn't come back in the morning. Hope doesn't meet us in our dreams. We can't choose to hope - because I've tried.
I'm not Hope's advocate because that flake of glass belongs to me,too. But, I cannot fathom the rest of my life without Hope. I want it back. I want to believe in princesses and knights on dark horses and towers that can be broken down. I want to hope again.
(304 Words)
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