but I think hope is like a crush.

not the resigned hope, like -i hope things get better -- but the hope that feels like suspended disbelief. where spaces open up and everything is possible again, and you're pushed to adventure, pushed out of your regular boxes, pushed to show off, to be the person you want to be the most, working hard to show your best sides, your secret scars, your hidden dreams.


hope is like a crush, making things as beautiful as possible even knowing you'll get hurt.


it won't sustain you, not like the hard work of love will, but it pushes you beyond what you thought you were capable of.

i am not optimistic, but hope, yes, hope.







I added more to my previous post in the comments section, but I wanted to keep this separate.

This is from a zine called Doris. Issue 26. I like reading and rereading this section. I find it soothing, grounding, and inspiring. I feel like the writer lived in my head at some point and took notes, and now here she is, reminding me what I've always known.

You have no idea how much hope I suddenly have. I feel my body pushing anxiety out and embracing the lightness of being once more.


I am so crushed out on these words.

I am so crushed out.