Hope Tempered by Hopeful Wisdom · 6:33pm Nov 18th, 2019
Hope. It's a word. The length to say it but a mere heartbeat. Hope is great and it is terrible. What often looks like hope in the distance will only lead you to despair. It's a wish, a desire bundled in warmth, a craving for something positive or good.
Most people tend to ditch it. The sense of something warm or good or positive to be felt and thought of no more. This isn't a blog that supposes a moral high ground. One way better and one-way naught. This is simply the ramblings of my mind as Low Roar plays on my headphones.
I think we hope for good reasons, things raw and fundamental to our being, the dreams we truly wish for. It makes one weak upon admitting it for most hope is made out of weakness. From deep cuts to massive adoration.
Hope is comprised of the wish for a family to come back together, the desire to have caring and joyful friends, the wish to succeed in your dreams, your arts and your crafts, so they may lead you to something more, people and places, projects and positions.
Despair comes from hopes unattainable or unanswered. When you wish for something more, you aspire to something more, needing to become or do, all for things to lead to new places. But more often than not. Either you are too weak, or the same is true of others. What you hoped to be the case quickly turns into something different.
To get less metaphorical with this shit. My rises and drops have been caused by hope. That all the writing and editing, reading and revising would improve my skill to a new level. That going out to bars and clubs would introduce me to new friends. That meeting idols could lead to something more. That embarking in art would pave a way to something great that I would be capable of progressing across.
But of course.
The idols and mentors I've met have always left leaving a cut. Friends supposed to be there can easily disappear. Criticism always comes before concern. Empathy and sympathy forgotten arts of mutual connection.
What worst feelings are there to express something deep, a dialogue brimming with weight, all for it to be unheard? We've all offloaded something significant only to have it talked over by something irrelevant. Ditching the words and returning to the act, all within your chest, a horrible absurdity starts to expand.
Maybe I am a creature of the absurd. But to think myself alone in such feelings and matters would be terribly egotistical, no? Sometimes as I write these lines, the thoughts of readers, aggressive ones, linger in the back of the mind.
It's a great tool to act as though you're being watched and heard by others, as you keep away from terrible things more easily. But the weight of holding so many perspectives of criticism during creating creates a strain on the skin.
But back to our point.
Hope is made of positive wishes born from hurt or adoration. Who in this world doesn't desire to be expressed and understood? To have perfect friends who always have your back? That the people around you understand the way you see things and the logic supporting it?
To be gone with cowards and have then replaced with people of courage. Not the removal of cowardice but the overcoming of it.
Such thoughts, however, need to meet reality. Hope may be honest and genuine, but sometimes, it expects the impossible. Friends can't always be perfect. People who care can still disappear. Things you so quickly get and understand can turn to intense mathematics imposed upon a fifth-grader.
What is the goal, then? To forgo hope? Only if you crave a dull existence. If you don't aspire to the heights, then you won't sink to the deep depths when you fall. But you keep on a straight line of typical trajectory.
In short. You're trying to skip out on life.
The way to defeat disappointments is not to ever hope again, but rather, to endure and learn from them. To allow yourself to a convention treasured for years in fantasy, knowing it to be the last one, an experience that, if missed, wouldn't hurt.
But going was a dream, allowing for heights of excitement that foreshadowed how it would never happen again. The fall grows longer the higher one climbs. And one has no choice but to fall when it's time to go. To go so high in joyous feelings also deepens the fall that one walks forward.
Feeling the happiness of going is good.
Feeling the sadness of leaving is good.
Friends don't understand? Find different means of expression. But are you sure they don't understand you? Is something hurting you more than your voice lets on? Don't be so arrogant to assume that you know the world and its workings.
The acute observer of life is most dangerous to themselves. For they watch life from the top of the building, offered a distant and better perspective, but sometimes fooling themselves in the belief they are not a part of it all.
They can see patterns and explain certain depths in the sense of something profound, but yet, understanding and experience bear a vast gap between them in deep. Knowledge tends to fade upon being tangled in the intensity of experience.
It's only a little way afterward we reflect on the past.
Be an observer if you wish, but don't view the party from afar. Take that step forward and immerse yourself in it all. When things go astray, don't feel betrayed. How often, after everything, do you continue like nothing occurred?
Why is expressing all that you felt, all thought you thought, seen with shame?
Don't assume that to be on the other person until it is proved. Expressing yourself honestly and kindly to another (and not listening to the petty voices of them within your head) will shower you in new lights.
Hope is an earnest child, a quality most of us lost in our younger, and to most, better years. Yet an element of it is still retained. That youthful excitement and genuineness remain within the word of hope. But much like a child—still had a lot of growing up to do.
Perhaps we should be thankful for adulthood for the wisdom it allows upon us. Hopes are good. They can't be betrayed but rather led astray. Do not hope for better friends but to make better ones out of those you currently have. To express pains and hurt rather than to repress and begin to boil.
The way to lighten the despair adjoined to fallen hopes is not to clenched your hand over the flame, but rather, to cup it with palms of wisdom. Be hurt and be cut. Take what you learn to better guide that flame.
You'll give up countless times.
Just consider each stop a break.
Then begin again.
This strange blog is hitting us strong, eh?
It always feels weird to return to these blogs for I never quite feels as positive about them during the composition. Tones set wrong and logic not quite flowing or consistent. My only wish—or hope, rather—is that the heart beating beneath the rhythm can be faintly felt during the reading.
I've been running a little low on life and hope as of late. Been isolated in a strange kind of way. It's arrogant of me to say that it does not feel like I have any friends or family. Despite those who message me constantly and parents who allow me to stay in their home—that genuine connection I once had with all now belongs to none.
As is always the case the blame will lie with me. Who am I to doubt others' support and conviction? What is it more I am craving for them to say? Perhaps there is some proof that would prove this myth of isolation is indeed false.
But that lack of feeling and belief warps one's perspective quite indeed.
All I can do is continue. Continue to write in hopes of becoming a vast writer. To continue to draw in the hopes of becoming an artist. To continue hanging with friends in the hopes of zany nights and days. To continue in the hopes of becoming something more.
Of course. All these things sound bigger than what I mean them to be. The mood and feeling of a day or a period do not define a person as a whole. Things become true and then they cease to be. To limit someone upon an expressed factor or aspect is rather foolish indeed.
Anyhow. I gotta get back to work. Been a while since I've done a blog, so of course, some gay shit like that had built up with the need to leak out in the form of prose. Hopefully, there was something that spoke to you.
Or shined a warmth whenever and ever I use the word 'hope' in any kind of context.
Cheers lads.
~ Yr. Pal, B
Thank you for this.
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Thank you for reading, broski.
~ Yr. Pal, B
Thanks u think I needed this
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Always.
Beautiful. Continue to write. Sorry to not review more but honestly, with your stories, it's kind of hit and miss with me if they are to my taste. But I do think you write good works you can be proud of.
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Thank you broski. This means a lot to hear.
Hey man, I'm still here. Just a bit busy.