The Well of Imagination

I think hope hurts more than rejection.

It’s quite easy to understand where you need to go after rejection, but being suspended in uncertainty because you dare to hope — that’s hard.

Most of me knows it’s impossible. If it wasn’t impossible, it would be improbable. If it wasn’t improbable, it would be unworkable. Our circumstances are simply too far away, yet I still hope.

So, this is me, suspended.

Silly me.

I would say I don’t really know how I feel about you.

But that’s a lie.

I would say I don’t really know what I want from you.

But that’s a lie.

I would say I don’t really know how you feel about me.

But I think that’s a lie too.

Everything has become so complicated to a point that although I do know, I feel like I don’t. Because it’s all an impossibility, an improbability, an unlikelihood. I’m not sure if I can come to terms with that. I know I have to, though. I know which path we are most likely to take.

But I won’t give you my goodbye now, because for some reason I still hang on to hope.