A message on hope

Within the first dozen or so pages of Chuck Palahniuk’s novel, the narrator states, “This was freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.” I have repeated this phrase to many of my friends, acquaintances, people that just happened to show up at my house for whatever reason. I thought it was clever, because I was always bearing witness to the emotional trauma and disappointment wrought by individual hope.

But, now I know differently. Now, I will confess to all of you what I think my repetition of this statement really meant. I think it was a mechanism by which to hide my own hope; a hope that was just as vulnerable, just as important to me as I tried to pretend it wasn’t. I had hope. I wanted hope.

Today, I just do not know anymore dear readers. I know it seems all melodramatic and overblown to type that here and subject you to it, an innocent, to my ravings. Perhaps this camel is just is too tired, too old.

I have tried to reason with myself and argue with my comrades. I have fought for hope, for sanity, for progress, for justice. I still have a hard time looking at myself in the mirror, so I ask myself, if this is all I see in myself, what do others see of me? Do not let anyone lie to you folks, your appearance in this world does mean something, and while you can slip through the cracks (Thanks Dr. G), if people see nothing beautiful in you…well I think you get my drift.

So, after all this time and just not seeing any improvement, any progress, any fucking justice; I think I am just too beaten up, bested by those who would choose their own self-interest over anything else.

You win.

This will perhaps be my last post here…J-Ro I will still want to contribute some work to you.

2 Responses to “A message on hope”

  1. Rob Says:

    Hey man I don’t know if this post is a hoax but I have read all that you posted up here ever since meeting you and knockem down at the University of take all my money. While it seems hopeless to keep confronting and calling out bullshit that our fellow humans contribute to our lives, there are those that have to call them out. This is you! I still enjoy reading your posts as others do as well.

  2. Administrator Says:

    Rob, thanks for the encouragement. I really do appreciate you being a reader all this time. I still do not know what I am going to do with this project, in this immediate moment…But your kind words do help.

    For some reason I am reminded of Shakespeare, whom I will now quote at some length:

    To sleep! perchance to dream:–ay, there’s the rub;
    For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
    When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
    Must give us pause: there’s the respect
    That makes calamity of so long life;
    For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
    The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
    The pangs of despis’d love, the law’s delay,
    The insolence of office, and the spurns
    That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
    When he himself might his quietus make
    With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
    To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
    But that the dread of something after death,–
    The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn
    No traveller returns,–puzzles the will,
    And makes us rather bear those ills we have
    Than fly to others that we know not of?
    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
    And thus the native hue of resolution
    Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought;
    And enterprises of great pith and moment,
    With this regard, their currents turn awry,
    And lose the name of action.–Soft you now!
    The fair Ophelia!–Nymph, in thy orisons
    Be all my sins remember’d.

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