Hope equals belief. We may not readily agree to this, but hope indeed directly related to belief. When we hope for something to happen, on a some sub-conscious level we start to believe that it is going to happen. Hope is the much cherished hobby of the Optimist. Optimism shine a ray of hope on everything. So we believe. And as long as we take it for granted that it is going to happen, we provide our lives a motive to invest our time an energy on an another day to live and see if it comes true. And so we do for the next day. And the next. Hope is faith. We have faith in our fate and carry on to see if it comes through. For the most of it, it works only if we work for it. We derive motivation to exert ourselves to achieve what we wish for and hope we triumph it. And life goes on and on like this.
Then there are other things, which are beyond the realm of our hands. Like love. No matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you work for it, no matter how many bucks you drain to get that glowing skin, you can never earn love. It just happens. The best we can do is hope for it to happen. And so in the course we start to believe that it will happen. We will fall in love some day. And for those of us who have already loved and lost and regained our selves again. We hope for it even harder. For God knows, what a pleasant feeling was it to be in love. And for only we know how much our lives feel empty without it. So we hope even harder. And our belief only grows stronger.
For me, hope is a waste of time. Or so have I concluded over the last two years of singlehood. When I hope, I believe that I will be able to fall in love some lucky day. Because of this, unknowingly I halt some part of my life. I keep that part open to the possibility of love. It gets all spruced up when it experiences meager feelings of infatuation, chivalry, kindness, compassion and all that jazz. Hope gets ever stronger. And I sink into a belief that maybe this time I finally get to fall in love. Time passes by, and I take it for granted. I am in love. Or am I? For the nth time? Naturally, the daydreams don't really come true. Not even close to the rosy fragrance of feelings that would drug the idle brain. Nothing. What I believe, isn't true. Its just a fantasy. What I hope for, shatters to ground struck by a bolt of reality check.
Reality. I turn away from it. No matter how hard I try, I am just not able to see it in the face and accept it, leave alone explicating it in words. So I just leave it at that. Everytime I try to accept it I give up and end up popping in those pills. And all that jazz. But it is there on my mind, all the time. Like some pending chore I can't ignore. I have to be abreast of the reality and sort out my life accordingly. So what do I do? I try real hard not to hope. I try hard to unlearn my ability to believe in something that doesn't exist. I try not to believe that its never going to happen. Ah! What a relief. Not such a relief that I would smile at it. At least I know I'm not wasting my time. I try so hard to convince myself that I am never going to fall in love. Constantly training my mind to learn to live in the absence of it and relish my loneliness. I will succeed one day. Probably. One day I'll forget everything what was love. I won't need it. I won't hope for it. And I won't believe in it. That will be the day when I will be void of any emotion that wastes my time. But… If love is the only element that is deficient from my life and is the sole motivation to drag my life one another day, what will happen when I abandon that motivation? What will happen if I am free of any motive to live?
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