How much hope will you muster up in order to be let down? All around there is talk about keeping hope alive and with hope you will make it, but I disagree, and I know for a fact the truth; hope disappoints.
I finally met my biological “grandpa” last year at my aunt’s funeral, she died of cancer. All I heard about him was negative things so I wanted to form my own opinion; not everyone views on everybody are true. After the funeral, the family had a get-together and my sisters and I walked to his table to talk to him. I couldn’t see my father in him but I saw my uncle for they both had the same head and complexion. Towards the end of the conversation, I reached in my purse and pulled out an unused sheet of paper and gave him my number, and I got his. After weeks of no phone call, I decided to call him, and he made promises of us fishing and playing basketball but none of the promises were fulfilled.
I had stepped out on a limb, prayed for my fear to go away, and with courage I disregarded the negative reports and braced myself for what I thought would be a great relationship with him. But it was no more than hype; it was no more than hope.
I remember wishing to see my mother whom I rarely see, after that Easter. I remember hoping to see MOM flash across the Nokia screen to send me a sign of relief for her well being, but as usual I was let down–let down to a point where I see no sign of returning to my natural state. So what do I do? I simply prevent what causes disappointment; I simply prevent hoping for what is not.
I want to try, but how much effort must I put forth? Is it only I, who must make this leap of faith? No, I won’t put hope into these wasted promises, and I think hoping is just one of the devil’s tightly wrapped disguises that lure us into believing what is not there, just as I hoped to see my mother again and just as I hoped to finally have a grandfather.
I’m not a little kid anymore, so I know what is and what’s not. I know Santa is a big ball of cotton dressed in red, and the tooth fairy is small dust remains floating around, and I also know that the Easter bunny is nothing more than soft, fluffy, marshmallows. Deceit lingers all around me and it’s only I who chooses to fall victim to the webs of lies or to stand stronger than that.
The question is not why do I believe what I do, but it’s why would we want to risk such pain, instead of shielding ourselves? Why would we want to be let down, all because of this talk of hope when hope only disappoints.
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