Sometimes I find myself in a desperate kind of wrestle to have hope.
I’m hoping for certain things to happen in my life. Certain success, certain acceptance, certain love. But they are slow in coming, and I begin to fear they will never come at all. Questions of what I can do better, regrets that things aren’t different and nagging thoughts that I just don’t have what it takes to do this flood my mind and sink my spirits.
My logical response, of course, is to wrap my arms tightly around my hopes. To bring them in nice and snug.
