Hardly Hopeful
It's so tiresome. A world of loneliness. Of rejection by and, therefore, rejection of society. A nation filled with people trying to actively undermine it. To destroy what makes it good. To plunge us all into chaos and ensuing servitude. The rejection of the notion of love at all. That there is no hope for me. That my fate is to be used and discarded by the system once I have been thoroughly wrung out.
What kind of derangement must you suffer from to see light in a world so furiously and continuously darkened?
I’ve nearly given up having hope for anything but the most shallow of things. I hope it’s nice weather. I hope I can see my friends. I hope the radio plays a song I know. I know having hope for anything even remotely consequential is futile. But it’s a constant fight to repress the instincts in me that want so desperately to cling to the hopes I once knew. Hoping to have a partner. To make them my spouse. To have a family. Hope I had of becoming someone worthy of respect for my accomplishments. Hope I had for feeling fulfilled by my career and hobbies. My heart wants nothing more than these. But my eyes and ears and brain tell me that these are illusions. Phantoms of a society long gone. The world my hopes are for is so corrupted and shattered, there’s nothing left. It’s a relic of the past, the past in which these hopes were instilled in me, for a future so unlike the one that lies before me now. So what am I to do? Well. I give it my best shot. Avoid the pitfalls as best I can. And see myself to a logical conclusion. I don’t see a place for me in the future.
I hope I'm wrong.
Yours Truly,
[Redacted]