She didn’t know why she was named Hope, but she never asked, she was happy with her name. So much happy that she carried it like a title, like a queen carries her crown.
And when her friends would ask her jokingly, “Hope of whom?” she would smile and say, “I am my own hope.” And she was hope in her own way, for her own self. She would read lines and quotes about hope and would laugh and would make sentences in her own way. Like when one day her mother asked, “Where were you Hope? I was looking for you everywhere.” She just closed her eyes, raised a hand, palms out and said in slow voice, “Look for hope in your heart, dear lady, that’s where you’d find it.” Her mother laughed for quite a time on this and would be found telling the story to every other person she’d meet for days.
Once she read somewhere, ‘a person lives as long he have hope, once his hope dies, he is surviving not living.’ And Hope was contained, satisfied, for she had plenty, plenty of it, for her present, future, for her family, for her friends and lots of for her own. She used to say that she had claimed, the strongest thing of the world: hope, and she knew as long as she have it, she is living.
Yet, time brings biggest twist, which not only changes everything but also challenges the person, daring the person to come and change the things according to his own will and that’s what happens with her. Gone, all her plans of future she decided in just few seconds, all her dreams of living a life of love, understanding and prosperity, gone in few seconds and leaving her calculating what had gone wrong in her planning. Leaving her despair, feeling pathetic, wrong everything so much wrong that she wanted to tilt the world upside down and she felt week, pathetic, disgusting for not being able to do it, not being able to redecorate her future, unable to turn things in her direction, unable to bring back her hope. She wanted to cry, scream, rip everything apart for letting her plan destroy, for letting her future not go the way she had planned. Wanted to rip herself for letting any such thing happen.
With every new second passing she was feeling more week, more broken, more, more everything which defines week and powerless and despair and pathetic and disgusting. She knew, after all the struggles that she can’t win, that she can’t turn back the time and make things right, make things just like she wanted them to be. She felt empty, as if someone have sucked out what she had in her, whatever that made her, the very existing of her. “Hope feels empty; empty hope.” She didn’t realized that she was saying it aloud until she have said it, and then she laughed, laughed the hollow laugh, laugh of empty Hope. She laughed because that was her best joke ever, Hope.