New hopes are born all the time. How many of them last? How many of them fade away? How much hope is realized in the fullest?
I don’t know. All I know is for whatever reason, I’ve decided to start feeling hopeful again. However, this hope brings fear as well. When I don’t hope, it’s easier not to fear because I don’t think about what I could lose.
Seeing my friends this past weekend was great. For some reason, heading back to the midwest/heartland reminds me that there’s more to life than just myself. This is good. Though not the point, this ends up stirring me to analyze other people, their lives, and their problems instead of my own. That’s how it goes, but I enjoy a nice vacation from my self-established boundries and watching other people live in theirs.
We all live, breathe, love, hurt, sing, laugh, cry, scream, hope, despair, and die. We are “…the all-singing, all-dancing crap of this world.” This is what what we’ve got so live with it before you die with it.
I’m trying to be cheerful here, so deal with it.