epiphany. hm. i do not know why i hate this word but one thing that i do know, is that i make really long titles.

some things we do are stupid. pointless. meaning, we try in vain to extract meaning, twists. we are fans of turnarounds-- intriguing, dramatic, sensual.. but most of the time, twists do not happen. and sometimes, when we least expect it, the worse happen.

still, we hope. pleading, crying for destiny. Luck. God. conscience, prayers, we plead, oh do we plead. we wish to change what has been done. we wish to have the best possible outcome. we have ideals. we have dreams. we have great ideas wishing, oh wishing to be screamed. spoken. written.
oftentimes, we hope in spite of all else, against reason, against logic. we pursue what we 'believe in,' and yet, in truth, only hope for.

we hope, for we are people.

we are people born with our own set of ideals.

we hope we never grow up. we accept. we absorb:
study well. study hard. get rich. richer than us. taller than me. be intelligent. excel. excel beyond your farthest dreams.

we readily absorb these ideals. we treat them, accept them, as facts of life. we treat them as sweet gifts of life's meaning, life's purpose. the victory road after the long, tiring journey. this rough caricature of a divine parody. travesty.


we grow older. we begin to doubt. we begin to, drift. we begin, we find ourselves. we achieve personal autonomy. we begin. we write.

we realize the pangs of reality. the guilts, the trials, the errors we must face. we hear the uncold, unwarm, child, your chest is bare tonight. slowly, we look into his eyes, teary inside, perhaps, and we, however painfully, oh how so painfully, smile. smile for all it's worth. smile for all the help it may bring. smile.

we smile. for it confuses people.
we write. for it is impersonal. untragic. fiction-- a ready excuse.

we decide to grow up, grow old. we decide to face the pangs, the fangs, the trials. we decide for our own. on our own. the golden clouds of shame and ego distract us. we lose sight of our ideals. grades do not measure intelligence. graduation is just a perk, rely on the 'form'. never forget the 'form.'
we rely on twists.

we toss a coin for the goblet. it beckons. we drink, we eat, we be merry. we feast. we raise our goblets, we light our pipes, and wave our pens. our coats dancing in the blissful wind, lights behind us-- making us tall-- darkly silhouetted. we value 'form.' we feast. we vainly feast.

slow. once in a while, the goblet breaks, the pipes run out, our pens strike the ground, and melt. they are no more. no more.

and yet we strive to gather the pieces. we hope. and oh. do we hope. everything shall be better. we write about it. we hope people read. and again we hope. for we are people, we hope.

having hope in spite of hopelessness and hate is like hearkening to sins, we heed holiness, we ask for coherence, and yet speak heresy. high nights. high crimes. holiness, sanctity. halos happily held high, hands holding, forcibly holding, bleeding, stinging horns, hard, hysterically we wave, hopelessly we wave, seeking heaven, hoping in spite of hopelessness and hate we hope. oh do we hope.



i am not saying that hoping is not good. i wouldn't even go saying it is bad. the fact is, hope, like lies, often, only delay.
the main difference is: lies prolong, and worsen.
while hope acts as a cushion, a cushion to break the fall, a cushion for the tears to back up, disappear. hoping is the pessimist's closest to optimism. it is the threshold of despair, the alternative for wishing.

so, shall i continue on hoping? the tears have already backed up. and have disappeared. they are still there, and yet i hold them back. blame stereotypes. blame hope.

and here i am, hoping, yet more properly, wishing, for
"all candor to leave me."
perhaps it shall. perhaps.