Your name thing fits dude. Hopepunk indeed. I am crying at like the first two posts on this blog /pos
Sometimes Hope is all we had to get through it all. Even when we didn’t believe it, we held out a hand to the other to remind them not to give up, and that it would get better.
And by some miracle or perhaps just the fact that random chance tends to support our continued survival, we were right each time.
Hope is not a fragile thing on soft dove’s wings who only lives when times are good. Hope is an iron hearted teenager who knows they don’t need to understand everything to believe in what’s morally right, who didn’t ask the odds when they showed up to fight for their loved ones, who got kicked to the ground, and just spat out a tooth while standing back up because they didn’t hear no bell.
My hope once said to me “Hell is not a pit, it’s a tunnel. So if you’re going through Hell, keep going.” I took their hand and said “only if you’re coming too.” And because of that, we’re both still here and still searching for a way to make the world better everyday.
They call me Hopepunk. Call yourself Hopepunk too. Hopepunk is my name but at its strongest, it’s an ideal. And ideals are too great to be borne by only one of us.
I have hope. I have enough hope for you too.