PAGE—1988. LXXXVIII ★ I wonder what's worse, disappointment in reality or feeling indifferent about whether reality changes or stays the same. Life never turns its back on you. You turn your back on yourself when you allow every closed door to stop you from moving on to the next one. Sometimes we choose to stand at a closed door and hope that it will somehow open, although that may defy logic and although we may know deep down that no goodness will come from it. We wait. We choose to wait. We choose to have hope, and we're always scared that the door will open the second we walk away. We claim ownership over what we do not have and fear losing it, although it really never was ours. We read too much between the lines of hope that we weave in our own mind's imagination, only to figure out at the end that we have woven a web of fragile hopes upon fragile hopes. And just as with a spider's web, once one thread is broken, the whole web falls apart.
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PAGE—1988. LXXXVIII ★ I wonder what's worse, disappointment in reality or feeling indifferent about whether reality changes or stays the same. Life never turns its back on you. You turn your back on yourself when you allow every closed door to stop you from moving on to the next one. Sometimes we choose to stand at a closed door and hope that it will somehow open, although that may defy logic and although we may know deep down that no goodness will come from it. We wait. We choose to wait. We choose to have hope, and we're always scared that the door will open the second we walk away. We claim ownership over what we do not have and fear losing it, although it really never was ours. We read too much between the lines of hope that we weave in our own mind's imagination, only to figure out at the end that we have woven a web of fragile hopes upon fragile hopes. And just as with a spider's web, once one thread is broken, the whole web falls apart.
BY Selenophile.
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