For all those days I could not get out of bed.
For all those nights my mind found itself shattered into a million pieces,
For all those countless hours packed with increasing pessimism,
For all those times I just couldn’t get up and revive my journey,
I notice one that alters this pointless game for me, if only for a moment, an hour, or a day.
On that one day nothing goes wrong, no obstacle seems great enough to matter, no mountain high enough.
You can dismiss me by thinking these lines to be clichéd or without any concrete meaning at all. But do we need everything to have concrete existence or can, at times, a completely abstract idea matter as well? I trust that minus hope we, the all exalted human race, wouldn’t have persisted this long. And since we are one hell of a twisted race, there has to be something profound that keeps us thriving. That one ray of maybe-it-will-happen, no matter how dubious, that makes us endure the toughest of all days. Hope is a very strong word— which is why it has never been included in my list of all time favorites. Oh but more so for people who take it too seriously. For them hope gone-wrong can evoke all sorts of unwarranted emotions in them. Since sometimes hope conveniently becomes the unpredictable existence that it is and brutally refuses to honor our trust in it….
I write something and then struggle to give it a proper ending. It happens every time I open my machine with the soul purpose of giving life to the ideas bursting in my mind. I end up feeling like a disappointment every time I am concluding whatever it is that I have attempted to write. But I have still not lost the passion; that drive to write. I still want to work on myself, improve myself, till the very last day of my stay on this planet.
My hope in myself, though gradually declining, is what helps me get up every morning.
It’s what helped me write a post again.