I believe in hope. It’s as simple as that. Well I guess it’s not that simple. You see, I come from a long lineage of optimist. My mother is one. As was her’s. And before that, there was my great-grandmother, the matriarch of the family, and the mother of all optimism. Of all the conversations my mother and I have ever had, I can only recall the ones in which she told me to never give up hope.
To be perfectly honest, it never occurred until recently that pessimistic people actually existed; the ones who have no hope. To me they are kind of like UFO’s: I know in theory they very will could be out there, but then I think to myself, “No, that’s crazy! They really can’t exist.” This is not to say I live a sheltered life. I’ve had a taste of what’s out there, but despite all the evils of the world, I’m still optimistic there’s hope.
What exactly am I hopeful about? Anything and everything. That’s the beauty of hope; a little goes a long way. I am hopeful that in seven months we will have a new leader who actually knows what is going on. Maybe one day we’ll leave the Middle East alone. Maybe, one day, two people, regardless of their gender, can legally spend the rest of their lives together, in any state they choose.
I am hopefully that my uncle will beat cancer. In this cruel world, it seems that everyone knows someone suffering. Apparently I am no exception to this rule. I am hopeful that the chemo will kick in. Hopeful that radiation will soon do the trick. I guess more than anything, though, I hope the doctors know what they’re doing.
I am hopeful that one day soon, my crush will finally notice me. A girl can only try so hard. A smile. A nod. A wave. Just give me something to work with.
I hope that when I graduate four months from now, I know what I want to do with my life. I hope I have a job. I hope I’m not living with my parents in suburbia. But more than anything, I hope four months from now I know what kind of person am, and who I want to be. I hope I have the confidence I need to survive in the real world.
I believe in hope, because in the worst of times, when it seems like there is nothing left at all, I can still wish and hope that everything will be just fine. I believe in hope because it’s free and it’s cheaper than retail therapy. I believe in hope because unlike that vodka tonic, no matter how much I have, it will never leave me hung over as hell the next day. I believe in hope, because it’s available anytime, anywhere, but no matter how addictive it is, it never requires a prescription.
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