Hope

Hope is habitually treacherous.

Even before our imagination forms, we fixate on objects just out of reach. A baby’s mobile is a metaphor for most existences; you’re aware of everything you desire, but an outstretched arm can’t quite grasp it.

But what if you hope to achieve something intangible? Growing up, my brother and I used to tell each other we’d change the world. It sounds like any other throwaway aspiration children say to one another, but I always felt we truly meant it. As for how we’d evoke global change, there was no plan.

I still don’t feel like anyone needs one, especially when we’re advised to aim astronomically, only to be told the clouds will cushion our fall. I’d argue that you’re better off being adaptable if your likely destiny is disappointment.

Until we’re reminded, we all forget hope is ignorant. Once you stop existing in naivety, there’s a defeating realisation that you’re no different from anyone else. So, why not attempt to sustain the illusion?

I’m not suggesting adults should aspire to become astronauts, but we could all benefit from some encouragement. Whether it’s a considered compliment or an arm around the shoulder, often we’re unaware of how we inspire belief in the battle to sustain one another’s aspirations.

Although I have yet to impactfully influence our existence, I hope my actions have inspired others around me. Almost everyone I meet is more capable than they’d care to admit. If I can change their world, it’d mean more than the adoration of many I’ve never met.