You Know You Need Hope

I certainly should start with how defeated we all feel without her. With how empty the fullest parts of us feel and how there is no emotion that could replace her, I stand to be corrected though. I should know, hope is worth more than your most valuable assets. Without this emotion, what's right in front of your nose seems like a blurry, fuzzy, far-fetched image that your mind can't place its hands on.

There had been this day; it had been two days of hopelessness, depression, and hatred for my life. Two days of going to bed earlier- something before 9 p.m- though I had slept almost all day, two days of words limited to a little over fifty the entire day; I live with my family- my mother, a brother, and a sister who likes engaging me in her gossips. Why you might ask. I had needs; everyone has needs. I know just that I let myself grow despondent from time to time when I can't meet these needs and these two days were among those days.

I had written an application letter to engage myself as a teacher at Kingdom Heritage Model School a few feet away from my home, but I decided against submitting; in part because I knew my brother didn't want me teaching in the same school as him and in part, because I've always told myself how terrible a teacher I'd be- the letter is still somewhere inside some book in mint condition and I had thought a second time about submitting but didn't. There were people to talk to online; I guess they weren't interested in talking to me, or I was just not ready to talk to anyone, so the chats were clumps of exaggerated dry inquiry about individuals' welfare.

Then there was a text; it was from Nairapen, an app I had recently signed up with, they had awesome categories to write under, but they took time approving your posts to be published; anyways, I got a text informing me they had made some changes to their site and I should go update my state of residence and one other information I had forgotten, so I did, interestingly, I found a box for bank details.

At this point, the fog in my head had cleared up, like, all the decaying blankness that ate at my brain disappeared in an instant- the power of hope and, in this case, the hope of money. In its place were hundreds on hundreds of articles I could write to make money on this app, I know it wasn't going to be easy, but I had it, HOPE, yes, it was as if the light was just let into a long deserted basement where darkness had made it's home bleaching away every sign of the darkness that was there in the first place.

The ideas kept flooding my head, sometimes in pairs, other times singly, but hope alone hadn't restored my lightness, and the desire to talk and read what else made me smile for the first time in two days read my article on STORMCLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. It's not me referring you to another article for the sake of it; this will give you the wholesomeness of the story. I had to employ devices to fall asleep because as late as 11p.m I was still up. If I wasn't thinking up a new idea to write about, I was adding to the ones I already had, switching on my phone after turning it off since it's my notepad and all.

You've read this long, and my point is that only those with breath in their nostrils have this luxury- some pay huge sums, and others pay nothing; those in the hospital beds connected to life support have it, however expensive, those in the abductor's den have it though they know it may be fruitless- so why should you, healthy, free and blessed with family or friends ever feel hopeless?

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