Hope?

Is there hope for me to find in life?

There exists nothing more that I wish for in my heart, and, even as a young kid that suffocated under immense, crushing affliction at too young an age, I always clasped tightly some shred of hope. Hope is a beautiful word. It is the word of survivors, and as such the uniting word of humans. To live without hope is to live without the one thing that would make my humanity bearable.

Yet maybe hope is also the uniting word of delusional men. If every aspect of life is steeped in affliction, desperation, and devastation, then why wouldn't a delusional man live for hope? What else is there to live for? Maybe survival itself is delusional.

I remember crying myself to sleep as a young child under the crushing thought of, "Why would daddy do this to me?" Despite my desire to truly die, I often wept tears of agonizing awe. Here I was, devastated and broken, but within my remains existed the one quality to transcend this suffering: hope that refused to wither, somewhere deep within my tiny soul. I learned that hope and despair are intertwined.

Is hope delusional if we truly do possess the ability to transcend our struggles?