On Hope

She awakes in the midst of that dreaded downward spiral.  The kind that makes her want to keep falling, the kind that makes her want to continue down that wretched hole, down to where everything feels comfortable and okay.  Sure, she feels sick down there.  Stuck in that damp darkness, surrounded by her fears and her never ending thoughts; but there is a comfort in it too.  She finds something pleasant in saying to herself, “Well, this is officially as low as I can go.  It can’t get any worse then this.  And here I am.  Still making it…poorly, but still alive.”

So what does she do when it feels like the end of the world and it feels like there is no way to get out of that deep, dark pit?  What does she do when a part of herself wants to stay hidden forever?

The truth:  She has two options.  The first is fairly obvious.  She can choose to stay.  To stay deep down there and wallow in the pity that is her life.  She can stay down there and remember all the bad in her world and all the wrong that has been done to her and all the troubles she has faced and she can cry.  And cry.  And cry.

But there’s a second option too.  A harder option.  But who says harder isn’t good?  Who says harder isn’t worth it in the end?  So the harder option when she’s down there in that hole?  She puts on her Friday smile.  She has hope that things will get better.  She has hope that there are things in this world that give her butterflies.  She has hope that there are people in this world that make life feel like life.  She chooses hope.  For a better tomorrow, or a better day after that, or maybe a better next month because sometimes it takes time.  But in the end, that hope might just be worth it.  In the end, that’s all there is

About laurengowing

I read prose. I write prose. I don't really read poetry, but sometimes I write it.
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