On Hope

I don’t know what to write about. I don’t feel like writing today. I don’t really feel like doing anything tbh. But then I look at it, these words and symbols that are inked on my arm. This is what I’ll write about today.

This is for all the times that life was shit, I couldn’t see the path ahead, but I just kept swimming, I kept swimming forwards, upwards, cause I knew no matter how much at the bottom of the ocean I was, I knew deep down that there was always the surface just around the corner, I just needed to keep swimming, swimming like mad, fuelled by that small mad hope, mad mad hope cause it’s was definitely mad to have any hope in those situation. I still live for that small mad hope. No not for the hope of money, or hope of a good career, not hope for anything specific really... just hope. I live for hope.

There’s an excerpt from The Brothers Karamazov: I see the sun and if I don’t see the sun, I know it’s there. And there’s a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there. And that sun, that’s what the symbol is symbolic for me, that even if I don’t see it, beneath all my layers it’s there. I know it’s there. I know it’s there.

And that is what that poem whose lines I have inked on me is symbolic of, it’s about hope. Ever single line of it, edged into my mind since a kid reading it I’d feel hope.

So yeah, it’s for all the times I fell down, and I got myself up. A part of the idea of me getting the tattoo also was this concept of: imperfections. I know as time goes by, it’ll become slightly blurry, the ink will fade a bit, there will be days I hate it, days I love it; it’s learning to live with it. I like the idea of that.

That’s it.

“I think she always nursed a small mad hope.”

To hope.
To hope of all that could have been.
To hope of all that will be.
To her & the small mad hope she nursed.
I hope I never loose that hope.