Hope, a strange thing. It's what separates one of my desperate moments from one where I can see a glimpse of light. I spend a lot of time in my head feeding myself hopeful thoughts. I wonder, if I stripped those all away - what would be left? Would it be reality? Would it be worth living? Would I realize that I actually HAVE a hope, instead of just hopeful thoughts?
Last night, I wrote a song in my head. It had something to do with walking the edge too many times, and just diving into the darkness because I couldn't stand the gray anymore. Does anyone know what I mean? I'd rather be in pitch black then surrounded by a grey sky. I'm an extreme person, this I know. But it seems more right to be in despair than to exist on this balancing line where you just barely keep yourself from falling - especially when the life you're living isn't anything beautiful either.
Maybe, from Gods perspective, to someone who watches me objectively - this journey I'm taking is beautiful. Maybe in my falling and rising, in my tears and laughter there is a hint of a swooping and graceful flight. Maybe someone can see the Hand pulling me closer and showing me life, maybe this isn't all just about weeping in the dark but about His purpose. I wish I could see. Just for one moment - His hand. Because I fear that if I didn't tell myself He was there - I'd be alone.
And of all the reasons why I cry in the night, that perhaps has the sharpest edge of despair.