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It keeps you going when you have nothing left. Amazing, isn’t it? How someone could have nothing but still reach out towards something in the hope that it will get better. Because in a world where everyone is shouting NO, hope is that little voice that whispers maybe.
And that’s why we need it.
Without hope we are useless corpses, our hearts beating but not truly alive, wondering about a barren land whilst everything else just passes us by in a blur. 
I remember how we had this card with the word ‘hope’ written across it and whenever the anger built up inside me you slid it under my door to remind me that you gave me hope; because no one else could, right?
But as the months passed by nights got colder and harder. You’d sleep by the fire while I found warmth in lighters pressed against my skin and whiskey rushing down my throat. I
I remember the day that you told me not to be so hopeful, as if dreaming for the future could be a bad thing- not realising that if you search for the warmth blind then you end up walking into fire.
You told me hope would be the death of me, and that’s the truest phrase you ever uttered.

We’re taught that we need it to have a purpose. That only love can cure our sadness, our pain and our loneliness. Without another person we are seen as an incomplete, insignificant waste of precious space. 
We romanticise love.
The first time I convinced myself that my heart could only beat for another was the first time I stopped breathing for myself. And in a world where you’ve only just cared for the oxygen you obtain daily, breathing it for another can become a dangerous game. Pick the wrong person and its back to square one, back to the world of crossing roads carelessly in the hope that someone will save you from the pain of living. 
The dangerous part is that you’re so consumed by the feeling of your heart racing, your hairs standing on edge and your body shaking that you forget that your body also does those things when you’re in danger. Put in a pretty face and the right words and suddenly it’s a different experience all together. 
You can’t be a whole two without a complete one, but the promises of happiness and the future consumed my being. I was a girl forced to grow up in a world where I believed no one could love me that when you told me those special three words I didn’t think you’d lie to me.
You said you loved me, but I guess actions speak louder than words.

It’s not always a good thing. I mean people change all the time for better or for worse. When you ripped my heart out I spent so long telling myself that you were not the same person that I first met. But as days turned to weeks I realised that you didn’t change I was just realising that I deserved better than to fall asleep crying because it was “so selfish” to call someone just to hear them say that they did care. Now I realise that maybe it was me.
Maybe it was the way you changed me.
Programmed me like your fucking robot to respond to every breath because it doesn’t matter if I’m on the floor wishing I was dead as long as you were happy.

No person, no distraction, not childish game can keep you from the truth.

I was a vibrant red and you were a dark blue. Each time you touched my skin my colour would fade, and in the quest to make me your favourite shade of blue I turned a deep purple. One look at me and you decided that purple didn’t suit you and left me, stained so no other colour would match me. 

But honey, I just needed to find someone who saw the beauty in dark violet. 


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