Last night, I couldn’t sleep. Shocking, I know. But as I lay awake, I got to thinking about hope.
Hope is a funny thing. It’s believing that something good will come despite all odds, all evidence and life experience that screams at you to be cynical. Because bad things do happen. They happen all the time, sometimes every day for long stretches at a time. We seem to have no power or control over those bad things, and it’s easy to feel defeated.
But then hope sneaks in. It’s that little whisper in the back of your mind that silences those negative thoughts and makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, there is something better out there. A path to happiness, a certain peace, an ease about your days.
I probably shouldn’t hope. Instead, I should just accept what I have and learn to live with it–make peace with my existence, if you will. But the thing is, I’m not okay with that. I want more. And I believe there is more–and beyond that, that I deserve more. It’s okay to accept your life, but it’s also okay to believe that you have the power to change it and the right to want to give yourself everything.
As long as I’m depending on me for my “more,” and not someone else who may or may not make my life better, I’m going to keep hoping.
When the world says, “Give up,”
Hope whispers, “Try it one more time.”
What are your thoughts on hope?