Hope

People come and go, they bring a plethora of emotions with them. And they take them away. Like a soothing zephyr momentarily makes you forget your sorrows, you soul too finds their presence uplifting. But then they move on. You're shattered, yet something reminds you that there are places in the world that were made of stone. There are places that should be built of stone. They're built to protect what is inside. What is yours. They are they to make sure that the hope that keeps floating doesn't manifest into something that you can't handle. But like most things in life, the structures we build to protect ourselves are not cohesive. Because we build them out of things that life keeps throwing at us. And at the first signs of cracks, they yield to the pressure and break. And you suddenly feel light headed and happy. You taste freedom. You enjoy the hope that was floating around come and hit you. You absorb it. You love it.

But there is only so much that is around. And soon its over. Before you know it your lungs are over worked trying to breathe in as much as possible. And slowly but surely the system gives way. So you're lying face down washed up on a shore, the beauty of the scene is mocking your condition. But then so has everything else. And this degeneration into a mere caricature of your self is an ugly sight. You're so accustomed by now that you are waiting for that hope to fill your lungs, but what life throws at you is brickbats. And you get your cue. You start picking up the pieces and building that feeble defence around you again, with the hope that this time, the structure stands up longer than it did the last time around. And that's where the fault lies. Because you're hoping that it will stand up. And we all know what hope does.