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Hope Dies Last

I buried my face in my pillow to hush the crying I could no longer keep inside . I hadn’t felt like this in a long time.  It was like darkness looming over me and hope fading away like the light my face would effortlessly give a few days back  . But once again, it has become something forced.  I never want anyone to feel my pain so I spread my joy, even if I’m running dry. I feel alone, alienated, and misunderstood.  I think it finally sunk in. I’m not numb. Suddenly, I feel it all, and it’s too much.  I’m not strong. Scared, so very scared; that I am.  Scared that I am  possibly afraid of the future.  I’m scared to think that it might disappoint me. I’m scared that I’m losing myself in this fear.  Scared that I’m not allowed to feel this way. Scared to trust that there might be good in this world and be proven wrong once again.  But, maybe that’s the true meaning of hope.  To be aware that there’s so much at stake, but to hold expectations regardless. To fail and be failed but pick up and start again. To love genuinely  without reservations or conditions. To pour out joy and kindness and expect nothing in return, and to dream bigger than this world finds you capable. And then the lonesome nights will be battles conquered against a rival who never stood a chance.  
 God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them.
Heb 6:10 

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