Hope for Dope

These hopes and fears suck.

Life—hold on. Life in this world is exactly like that.

Like a rotten egg you're still trying to fry.

Hope of love,

and fear of not receiving love.

(Which is basically every night after 10 PM.)

Hope of smile,

and fear of tears.

(And snot. Let's not forget snot.)

Hope of success,

and fear of failure.

(And the relatives who will say "I told you so.")

Hope of meetings,

and fear of not meeting.

(And the awkward silence when you do meet.)

Hope of good life,

and fear of grim life.

(Grim life: also known as Monday morning.)

Hope of living,

and fear of death.

(Death: the ultimate deadline you can't extend.)

Hope and fear—

that is life.

Plus constipation. And overpriced vegetables.

Pulled down to the grave.

And hold on: life in this world is exactly like that.

People say: Hope.

They say: You will realize and reach for your dreams.

The colour of life is hope.

Happiness will come to you.

Think of tomorrow filled with joy.

Yeah. And my uncle's fart smells like roses.

But I always fear from hope.

Because after a long wait, if

Failure is a dreadful colour and a hindrance—

(And failure's colour is brown, like the shit it is)—

it brings bitterness and pain. Can't escape.

Losing the strength of hope.

And then you're just sitting on the toilet of life,

empty-handed, empty-hearted,

wondering who the hell invented hope in the first place.

So here I am: hoping not to fear, fearing not to hope,&nbsp and somehow managing to do both badly. Life—hold on. Life in this world is exactly, ridiculously like that.