Tuesday, January 17
hopes and expectations are what drives us. they are the reason we wake up every morning; the impetus that sustains us through the day; the last inspiration before we dismiss our thoughts in the night. they act as motivating forces that propel us forward to do things we otherwise never would have. they are what we hang on to when things seem bleak, when we really want to just toss everything aside and never give a damn ever again.
so who was i kidding the last time i said i bear no hopes? for without hope, there will no longer be reason for me to do what i do. without hope, the sacrifices wouldn't have made sense and the mere effort would seem meaningless.
but i am fine letting things remain as they are now. in fact, it seems like the best alternative of all. so how is it possible that the hopes exist?
maybe it's fear. the same fear that clouded me occasionally when i was still a shooter; when a single shot had such high stakes that i could take a long time aiming but my finger refused to pull the trigger. because as long as i remained aiming, the control was mine.
sometimes i just indulge in my little pleasure of observing from afar. what she said struck me a lot. more than you could ever imagine. initially i thought it was silly, absurd even. but i'm beginning to see reason in it. it's like i can finally feel it. fortunately or unfortunately, it's hard to decide. whether this is really true i don't know, but it provides a plausible explanation. because firing would mean that i could hit.
or miss.
written at 15:13
