Call me a dreamer

I took a 1010 college English course when I was back in high school. One of our very first assignments we were asked to write a paper about a word that typically had one definition, but had a completely different meaning as defined by our own lives. I chose the word hope. For most people this word is synonymous with strength, optimism, or courage. My life experiences had taught me that hope lies more on an equal ground with foolishness and stupidity. It was a word that blindly led me into precarious and harmful situations because I was imprudent enough to believe that things could be different.

I learned pretty early in life that you can’t get your hopes up if you have no hope to begin with. For a long time I had this childish sense of idealism that had me believing that if I worked hard enough, I could achieve the things I wanted. It took some pitfalls for me to understand that while I can control my actions and the effort I put forth, I cannot control the outcome.

Needless to say I got an A on the paper, as my definition of the word hope so greatly varied the more renowned and accepted definition. These were my thoughts at the young age of 18, so what do I believe now six years later, at the ripened age of 24?

I think that there are two kinds of hope. There is the hope that motivates each of us to wake in the morning, a sort of innate belief that getting out of bed is going to be worth it. This hope is a reminder that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that on the other end of going to school is a good career and a better life. There is the prospect that even though this relationship didn’t work out, that there will be one that eventually does. This hope is a perseverance that helps each of us make it through the darker days and push forward in search for a brighter tomorrow.

Then there is the other hope… It is the hope keeps me holding onto something that has long since died. It is a delusional dream that patience will pay off, that if I keep quiet and wait long enough, my time will come, and things will change. Or it is a hope that has me beating a situation to death like some sort of control freak, trying to squeeze some sort of different response out of it, abusing this entity from every possible angle until I’ve achieved what I most desire… or until I have failed beyond any reason of doubt and all efforts are exhausted.

I’ve experienced both the dark and light side that hope has to offer. The paradox being that while the one hope has hurled me into the toughest times of my life, I rely completely on the other hope to pull me back out from the depths of darkness. With all the darker side of hope has taught you would think steer clear of it on a regular basis verses falling pray to it all too often. To this some might call me sentimental or a romantic, but I just know that no matter what I’ll always be a dreamer.