“Having a ray of hope dangled in front of you and then abruptly snatched away is far worse than never having hope at all.”
– Yasmin (in my as yet untitled novel)
Sometimes hope can be the most painful, cruelest of companions. It lets you believe and expect. It lets you raise it beyond all possibilities. It gives you the tiniest signal, the smallest embodiment of what could be real and it makes you lift it higher.
The higher your hope goes, the further and harder it falls and you go with it. With a crushing and excruciating drop you hit the floor. You are left to pick up the pieces. To try and gather yourself and put the broken parts back together. Just as you start to mend the cracks, as you start to resemble your whole self again; hope comes around the corner, greeting you like an old friend.
Every time hope shows up on your doorstep, you want to turn away, to slam the door. You want to at least politely close the door and say, maybe another time. But hope always finds a way to slither in. Showing you what you want to see and telling you what you want to hear, not caring how hard you will fall this time, how irreparably you will break.
No matter how much hope hurts you, with its facade and its visions of what you dream of, without it surely you would be crushed, still. Perhaps more so.
What would we be if we didn’t let hope through our doors and into our hearts. If we didn’t believe and have faith that our deepest dreams and desires could even possibly come true and would one day be made into memories.
We have to have hope for ourselves, and for everyone, because if there really is no hope then we may as well give up… but that, my friends, is not an option.