Hope is bittersweet for me. Isn’t it supposed to be a positive thing? Cue all the lovely, optimistic quotes about hope. “Life is nothing without hope” ect ect ect.
But it’s not for me. Not right now in my life. I wish I didn’t have hope. I wish I weren’t ‘hoping’ for things or holding into ‘hope’. I don’t want hope or feeling hopeful.
I wish my heart would give up hope on K. Or give up hoping he won’t marry Liz. Or hoping it has all just been a dream.
I wish I didn’t get hope each time a new guy comes into my life, hoping he will be the one I can love and make me move on from K. When in reality, they all just end up being temporary distractions. Momentary, fleeting distractions.
I hate how much having hope has left me hurting, and sad, and closed off. My walls are so thick and high, I wonder how they will ever come down enough to let someone in and love me.
I’m tired of hoping.
I want actions. I want answers. I want results.
I’m tired of getting my hopes up and being let down. I’m tired of hoping each new time will be different, even after I start to open myself up to it, and then having it end unfavorably.