Hope Breeds Eternal Misery
It’s true what they say. Hope breeds eternal misery. If I hope I get hurt there is no hope. And if I dare hope, I know it will be a hollow hope because while my heart empties the last drop of gin onto the fire, feeding the flicker to become a flame, my mind begs it all to stop. It calls out for help though I know it won’t come. I know what will happen, it always does; it’s the one thing I know will never fail. My heart falls down from its way up to that ever elusive cloud my mind tells my heart is just a mirage. It climbs up anyway and then, one step away, I fall. The dream pulled away; the illusion pulled out from under me yet again. I break. Like every time before, I let them build my hopes up only to let them crush me later on. It’s my own fault, for as much as I know, I always hold onto that glimmer of hope for the heart heeds no word of the mind. And once again, as always in the past and no doubt in the future, the mind has no power, but it must stand by and watch as the heart breaks, of its own stupid doing and when the next chance comes for hope to breed its misery, it all begins again. Destined for nothing more or less than misery and heartache for hope is the most skilled and dangerous of all con-artists; it is within us, it is in our nature, it cannot be escaped and it will not be denied. There is no safety in this world, not even within, because forever hope will seek out and feed on the weakness and broken hearts of fools like me, who hope blindly against all sense and reason. And then, we break. Again and again; we always break.
