Hope Is A Phoenix

Hope is something that I won't trade for anything.

Hope — n
1.	( sometimes plural ) a feeling of desire for something and confidence in the possibility of its fulfilment: his hope for peace was justified ; their hopes were dashed
2.	a reasonable ground for this feeling: there is still hope
3.	a person or thing that gives cause for hope
4.	a thing, situation, or event that is desired: my hope is that prices will fall

Life, without hope, is totally pointless. This I know.
Somehow I lost my hope...maybe I lost it when I lost my innocence, or my dignity, or my self-respect, or my will to live, or any of the other things I've misplaced in my 21 years. Wherever it went, my life went to shit without it. I stopped hoping that one day, my ass would be worth saving. I stopped trying to get better. I started begging my friends to let me go, to give me their permission to die. I didn't want to live with myself anymore...with no hope, you can't get better. And I will be the first to say that I was sick.
Let's play a game: I like games. Visualize whatever you hate most in this world. What makes you fucking sick to your stomach? What makes your skin crawl? What do you hate so much, you wish you could just smash it to death with your bare hands? Now imagine that thing inside you. Imagine that thing inside your mind. That's how I felt every day. I didn't want to be saved because that meant whatever I hated would survive too. I wanted to kill us both. Because hope had abandoned me, and that meant that I could never get better. Which means that I had to die.
I'm not sure what brought my hope back. All I really know is that over the course of my life, there have been people who have cut through the bullshit I like to use as a smokescreen and they have seen me for what I really am. I couldn't even see me for what I was, but they could and they did. These people have shaped me, have broken me down into pieces and then built me back to what I am now. And it is to these people that I owe my life, because they made it worth something to me. I guess that's because it was worth something to them. I can't figure out just what it was on Sunday that made me feel like it was ok to stop hating myself, but something was said or done or something that just kind of changed my mind about killing what I hated, which was me.
Somebody pointed out to me that this was a decision. Yes, I had forgotten. Suicide became my 'hope' for awhile, then it became an expectation, then a reality. But it wasn't some impending event...it was my decision. And one's mind, when made up, can be changed.
Holy fucking shit, are you kidding me. Slapped in the motherfucking face.

Hope is a motherfucking phoenix, people. Sometimes, when things get real fucking dark, it dies. But it always comes back.


Hang on,
Ness