h.o.p.e.

Ask me why I can write so freely in some of the darkest moments of my life. I feel like out of dark moments, there can only be more light, it can't get much darker, it can't get too much more difficult. Therefore, it provides a moment of hope, a brief breath of possibility. It's why we argue when we're hurt. It's why we can create drama oh so easily. It's because we enjoy a good resolution. Ask me why we listen to sad songs when we're already sad. It's the same reason.

So, here I am, writing again. You can only imagine why.

Hope. It's a funny word. It seems like something that should be so consistent. Once you have it, it shouldn't really leave. You were able to rationalize it at one point, after all. So why not now? See, most feelings are fleeting, they come, they go, pathetically quickly. Hope, is just like these feelings. I can fall asleep with all the hope I can muscle and wake up crippled by defeat. I can confidently venture into a new chapter of life wholly supported by hope, and leave the chapter seconds after opening it. It's as quick as lightening and stings just the same when it leaves.

See, here's the thing about feelings, they are different than emotions. Emotions are instinctive. Emotions are innate; they can't be controlled, manipulated, or manufactured. Feelings, though, they can. We are in control. It's how the widow can smile; it's how the depressed can wake up; it's how the joyful can cry; the pained can laugh; and the monsters forgive. We are in control of our feelings, 100%. This is something I've been in denial about for too long to count. I want to blame "human nature" of why I acted out on my feelings; I want to not be responsible for hating myself; I want the universe to know it's wronged me. But I'm the culprit. I'm at fault for wronging myself. And how? Call it self-sabotage, self-hatred, mental illness, but we all do this. We are all at fault of our own feelings.

Don't get me wrong, I get sad. For example, I get sad when I think about unjust acts, but I cannot let my emotions to dwell on this feeling. I can change my feeling of sadness into opportunity, motivation, and encouragement to seek justice. Could I change my feeling of sadness to create a dark, grim, and painful world? Could I not only be instinctively sad, but depressed, then confused, then angry, then hurt? Of course. It's my choice. But here's the thing about pain, about hurt. Hurt people hurt people. That is, people who are hurt do the most hurt to other people. There's underlying emotions that develop into feelings of hurt in which they are acted upon, causing more pain, more hurt. And ladies and gentlemen, this explains the world in which we live, disappointingly.

So what about hope? I believe it's an emotion. Something can make us instinctively hopeful. But who is the culprit for stealing our hope? You've guessed it, ourselves. It sucks to hear, and trust me, it sucks to say.

I'm here to say, whatever ounce or minute breath of hope you have in your soul, hold onto it with all your might. Strengthen your hope grips. Widen your hope bin. Fill your lungs deeper with each breath, because this glimmer might just save your life. And if your grip slips, your bin is stubborn, your lungs damaged, look to others to provide their hope. I guarantee someone else believes in you far more than you believe in yourself. If you don't believe me, ask your mom. Okay, but seriously, if no one else does, I promise you that I do!

Whatever you have to hang onto, never ever let go.

Because I'd love to see you at the end of this, blossoming, growing, shining, and standing tall.