Perchance, to hope
I’m not one to hope. I used to, but you can say life beat that out of me. Then again I’ve always been one for rational thought (unless I’m being highly emotional and want to just stomp around), and it seems there is no place for hope in such a mental place.
I don’t look for meaning in life either. I find there are enough people in the world searching for it that they’ll let everyone know if they find something. Rather, I get up and get on with my life and try to keep putting one step forward each day. Sometimes more than one. No sense constantly thinking about what does this all mean?
I try to use logic to explain a multitude of things – from politics to cooking to well, you name it. If I can’t find it in logic, I put it on the shelf for another day. Most of the time I forget about it since there’s already a multitude of thoughts running around in my head.
I don’t consider myself a pessimist, but rather someone who looks straight into what is presented to me each day and try the best I can to deal with whatever comes my way – good or bad. Sometimes it’s difficult. The difficult times are when my thoughts and feelings jumble up all together. It’s when I need someone to lean on, to ask questions, and sometimes, to just cry.
But I get up and keep moving forward, even though there are moments it is harder to do than others.
Maybe that’s hope? Getting up and dusting off what comes our way? Something in me keeps going and doesn’t want to give up. Not yet at least.
“I like it when a flower or a little tuft of grass grows through a crack in the concrete. It’s so fuckin’ heroic.” ~ George Carlin