Why Keep Hoping

“Why do I keep going?”

It’s something that people have asked me multiple times in different points of my life after they see things that I’ve gone through, things that I’ve lost, disappointments — shipwrecked dreams, loves severed. Why do I keep going? How do I keep smiling, keep trying again? How do I get back up and just keep trudging on? How do I still enjoy and keep my focus on the things which are still pleasurable?

In prison, oftentimes, I ran into people — I was surrounded by these sorts of people — who, for every positive thing somebody would say, they’d bring up five detractors or countermand them with other things which make it worse or make it not worth anything. But that’s not how life works. There are bad things. There are a lot of bad things. There are countless bad things. Mistakes, evil, pain, miscommunications, lies,  betrayals, accidents, deliberate evil: they’re all out there. They all mess up our lives; they all wreck things, dash hopes. Some things plain just don’t work out.

But there’s also an infinite number of good things. There are so many beautiful, glorious, wonderful things: promises — hopes that can’t be shattered. Indomitable, adamant, infinite hopes. And sometimes they reify and peek through the world and show themselves in little things that seem transient — seem ephemeral, inconsequential — but they’re not. They’re shining through like pinprick stars on a starry night, seeming so tiny, yet are in reality vehemently flaming balls of insanely grandiose power.

And that’s why I keep going. I’m stubborn. I keep thinking about all the good things that are going to happen, that have happened, that are happening right now. And they are hard to see through the veil of tears. They’re happening. And those future things that I hold out hope for — that I still fight for, and I still keep trying to lunge after and snatch after and run towards — they’re happening: they’re being fashioned, even now, behind the scenes, invisibly, within people’s hearts, behind the curtains. And in the third act, when those stories conclude — in the final climax and the denouement — we’ll go home to the Shire. And then to Valinor.

Signed - Jaymes Lauser, Whythawye