When you wake up in the morning

There is something terrible about hope. Something passive-aggressive. Hope may not be the boogeyman hiding under the bed but it comes pretty close. Hope is messed up. It glories in defeating reason. It keeps alive when there is absolutely no reason why it should not die. It is a callous, unfeeling thing. Everyday you wake up hopeful is another day that you will be disappointed.

Now, go back to bed.


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