High Hopes

maybe i'm just too high, or still so sadly stoned off a substance called hope. the very idea that you could substitute action with intention is disheartening.

hope is the action killer. spend all you got and just hope for more. hold your broken heart in your hands and hope it gets better.

or

get off your ass and do something about it

every second we spend commiserating with our sorry selves is a moment lost to intention devoid of action. with the very same spirit of loss we experience, we possess the potential to transform our negativity into positivity. i've had my heart ripped out too.

everybody knows nobody knows how low low goes when your eyes stay closed. its gotta be important for us to feel like we're the most hurt. that me, in my moment of darkness, is experiencing a pain deeper than anyone else has before. otherwise it wouldn't be special. and your problems wouldn't be unique, rendering them not exceptional.

god knows we can't latch onto stereotypical sadness as well as we can own our own brand of distinct detriment.

if your pain isn't special, then it's not substantial. and if it isn't substantial, then your experience isn't worth much. and if your experience is worthless then your life has no value. but by these rules we justify our worth by the severity of our sadness. this is cyclical viciousness.

most times when we really feel it we really mean it. in our context, in our reality, from our perspective. perception is reality. which is why most realities blow.

the constructivist argues that the possibility of improvement lies not within hope but in action.

hope is the bed mate of complacency.

action is the enemy of wallowing in our self conceived grief

what could possibly hurt more than the idea that you give up on yourself every time you profess you've got it the worst.

the new constructivist can't be bothered with the pain because it hurts more to admit defeat than it does to get back on your feet.

nobody can take away from you how hard you've fallen, nobody can discredit the work you've put into something only to have it stolen from you. these are the true consequences of the unpredictable life. but to believe your life, in this respect, is unique, is downright close minded selfishness. each and every single one of us sharing the same sun and breathing the same air surrender ourselves to the same exact chaotic forum of unpredictability. we all live the same life in the context of the fact that not one of us unique enough to control its outcome or special enough to contain the uncertainty. out of a dark and deep desire to set ourselves apart as individuals in world so bent on the cult of self - (the most selfish of all mentalities) we tend to take solace in our deficiency and shortcomings - in an effort to stand out. how you supposed to stand out if you can hardly get on your feet?

let your determination define your individuality. hope for nothing. act on everything.

the worst form of regret is knowing you could have done what you didn't.