Why do we keep hoping?

It’s a question I’ve been asking myself these past few days. Without a satisfactory answer. Why do we keep holding onto hope even when we know without a shadow of a doubt that there is none?

What compels us?

Realistically and rationally speaking, I know that there is absolutely no hope of getting an answer to the questions that have been plaguing me for a year now. Every attempt at reaching out to the person I love has failed. I’ve tried three times over the course of 10 months.

I didn’t go for a full-on confrontation. I feel that it is too late for that and since I’ve not received any reaction from her regarding my previous attempts, I don’t think a confrontation will be useful.

Somehow, though, I keep hoping that she grows up. That she grows a spine. That she reaches out and actually means it. That ridiculous attempt at an email for my birthday was just that: ridiculous. And it was disingenuous.

I wish she hadn’t written.

And still, I keep hoping. I can’t turn it off. I don’t want to wait for someone who doesn’t want me. Who has made it utterly clear that there’s no place in her life for me. I don’t want to miss her. I don’t want to think about her or have any feelings for her.

And still, I keep hoping.

I’m so angry sometimes. I’m so angry that I wish I had never even met her. I’ve never wished that about anyone before.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate her, and I don’t wish anything bad upon her. Quite the opposite. But I wish it would stop hurting so much. I wish it would stop coming back to haunt me.

I’ve been doing so good lately. I’ve been focussing on work (plenty of it), on my motorcycle lessons, learning so much and spending time with friends and family.

But it makes me realise that I’m missing something.

I miss sharing these things with someone I love.

And that’s why we keep hoping. Because of love. Any kind of love. As long as there’s hope, as long as we keep holding onto it, not all seems lost. If I discard the last shred of hope my foolish heart keeps holding onto, I fear that love is lost to me.

So, I guess, we also keep hoping because we’re afraid of what would happen if we lose hope.

How’s that for a catch 22?

If I find a solution to this conundrum, I’ll be sure to let you know.