I believe in hope. Hope that I will become an artist, hope that I would be with the man I love, hope that my life would be filled with happiness. I believed it so much that I almost tattooed it on me.
But as I am filled with sorrow and the darkness keeps stealing pieces of me, I find hope to be an ethereal concept that has no place in the real world and is losing ground inside of me. It has no voice to encourage me, no body to keep me warm at night, no words to whisper love to me.
Why not instead be practical. It resides in the brain and not the heart, and then I wouldn’t have to worry about losing myself. Practical would having me painting because I enjoy it and without grandeur thoughts beyond my reach. Practical would have me moving on and letting my heart heal. Practical would have me enjoying the life I am given.
So why can’t I get rid of this hope that will only end up filling me with sadness and grief, and just be practical.