Hope is a light. It glows, it beacons, it shows me a direction to walk to. Hope is the light at the end of a tunnel. It's the bright future I crave for instead of the other, darker possibilities. It shows me the direction but not the way.
I obsess about my hope. Bigger, better! A bigger hope is better, right? And so I build and nourish my hope. I want this wonderful future and disregard everything else. There are other lights out there, but I walk to the brightest one. After all: This is a tunnel, not? And so I often lose my footing - falling into dark cliffs.
Hope is a goblet made out of fine glass. I look at it and see myself: warped, how I want to be. I caress and form this trophy I created from my dreams... until I deform it too much. Deformed dreams from a deformed mind. It breaks, but I can't let it go. I hold on to the shards as they cut into my hands. The blood blends with tears. I feel better, now that my vision is distorted again. Let me cling to this hope a little bit