Insanity Hits.

Found some super old photos that Zia took of me around November-ish during a coffee sesh at Boheme (read: before Christmas time made me ultra fat again) and I figured I should post them, so I can go all emo on my blog again. It's my blog and I can do what I want to, do what I want to…

If you follow my blog and/or social media posts, you should know by now that I'm generally a very hopeful (albeit emotional) person. I overthink, I mope and I brood more than Ryan Atwood and Lucas Scott combined.

My hamartia is that I always hold onto the faintest sliver of hope, even when everyone else tells me there is none. This is why I have an estel (Elvish word for "hope") tatt.

While my friends always try so hard to murder my hopes and dreams and wake me up to this world they call reality, I keep refusing to give up on the awesome possibilities of life and potential love.

While it may be true that this kind of false hope is what made me waste years of my life on babydaddy and on my last long-term boyfriend, I'd like to believe that real hope still exists somehow.

It is also true that there is no guarantee of a happy ending to the things that I hope for - there never is a guarantee for anything, really, though! - but is it really a crime to be hopeful about something that other people no longer believe in, take seriously, or fight for? I mean, without hope, what do you live for?

starfish necklace from House of Luxe

There might not be any guarantee of a happy ending for me with this guy that I currently like, but there's nothing wrong with waiting to find out, is there? Besides, who says I won't feel any differently myself when the truth finally comes out?

foldable flats from The Little Things She Needs

Around the same time that these photos were taken, I set an ultimatum with Megann: that I would wait until my next birthday for "Steve" (changed his name to save his dignity) to break up with his girlfriend and run into my arms.

My birthday is less than 2 weeks away. Has he left her? No. Do I care? No. That's the thing about feelings. They come and go as situations change and as other people enter your life.

So, why hope at all? Coz it gives me something to strive for and to move towards: a promise worth living for that could potentially be fulfilled.

Besides, in a world where everyone else is giving up on love, faking love and denouncing love altogether; it's nice to know that I still have the energy to be hopeful about something. Even if I don't remember what requited love feels like anymore.

Come hope with me.