Category : Diary/Journal

Sub Category : N/A

Why do we fool ourselves into thinking we could be happy? That it could be ok, that it will turn out right. Why do we hold on to false signs of peace? The war is not yet over. The fire still rains down through the roof. So we imagine an umbrella, a fake belief of comfort. But it's not there, there's no protection. Brave the storm, the chaos and crazy mayhem. The fake walls make you happy, but they won't fix the pain. It'll eat at them until they crumble down, and tumble back on us. The false hope will be revealed, scarring everything, everyone in its path. And leaving us breathless. Then to fix this, we'll dream the luxury of hope. It proceeds to snowball, and snowball, hitting us at the bottom when we can no longer excuse the helpful lies and deception on our feelings. Why hope?