It is better to die of violence, swift and decisive, than to die of a gentle neglect, slow and painful.
The violent episode holds the promise of a quickened relief from the anguish of life, while being abandoned offers a view of our decaying spirit, while tortured by hope.
Living with hope is a curse when immersed in a reality of hopelessness.
Hopelessness is a convenience that spurns love, and embraces the cold comfort of solitude.
It is the absence of risk, but also the absence of joy.
Nonetheless, it carries with it the promise of not being betrayed…again.
Again, because hopelessness only sets in when we’ve been viciously abandoned before, making the hope of being cherished too painful to consider.
We nourish the cruelty of the world that kills our spirit, when we abandon what we love in favour of holding on to the familiarity of what we loathe.
Thus, we destroy the very remedy for which we’ve been praying to heal our broken soul.
Our eyes reveal the hollow in the light of day, and the stinging brutality in the quiet of night, knowing that none look close enough during the daylight hours, while praying that the one who sees everything takes pity on our souls in the tortured darkness.
Breathe, beloved…just breathe…hopelessness has no home in a cherished heart.
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A gentle neglect
