Sunday, October 16, 2011

Hope is Wrinkled

Sometimes, I feel like I'm supposed to be the poster child for Hope.
   wish you'd never gotten out of bed?
    fighting that weight on your chest?
    wondering why you aren't enough yet?

Because you're healed, remember Kylee? You have Hope.
Hard days are for people who don't know any better.

But if I were the kind of girl to tell secrets - I'd let you in on this:
Sometimes... I get tired of Hope.

It starts to feel like a set up. Hope takes vulnerability. And vulnerability is an open door to getting hurt.
And we both know that is not my style. Risk and I? We don't mix.

It's in those moments I catch myself grabbing Hope out of the air and crumpling it into my palm. "You are not allowed," I say, and throw it into the corner.

It sits there for a day or two, before I can't ignore the fact, that as difficult as having Hope is - without it, my life is empty. And I crawl over and pick it up, brush off the dust, smooth out the wrinkles, my mouth twisting with determination.

Turns out, Hope isn't perfect. just like me.

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