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Hope. Nothing more, nothing less. Just hope. And yet, it's potent. It's addicting in a non-malign way. It's like taking a sip of cold water, or biting into a ripe, sweet fruit. Hope blooms and spreads, not unlike a cancer. But where one destroys and disrupts, the other builds and heals—or at least covers the gaping holes within.
Hope is painful and scary. Hope is beautiful and exciting. Hope is something I denied for a long time.
I miss hope. Perhaps it's time to meet once more.