"Hope is the state which promotes the belief in good outcomes related to events and circumstances in one's life."


Four letters make up such a small word with a huge meaning, a word which can mean something different fro each person and a word which can mean the difference between life and death at times. While I was in hospital hope meant that I could get better and get through the tough time I was experiencing and while I am not better and still suffer from depression and self-harm thoughts I did get through that tough time in my life and I believe that if I did not have hope I would have never made it through that time. The times where I sat completing taking my own life it was having hope that things could improve that stopped me. The times I didn't have hope were the times I went through with suicide attempts.

Now at the present moment, which is the moment I always try to live in, hope means that I can continue to fight my depression, keep the upper hand and not let it beat me down like it did once before. Without hope I don't know where I would be today, I probably wouldn't be writing this blog for a start and God only knows if I would even be alive if I didn't have hope. Hope is what gets me out of the bed in the mornings, it is what gets me to leave the house when Im having a bad day and most importantly hope is what allows me to live each day as it comes while taking everything life has to throw at me.

For people who do not believe in hope I have one thing which I believe may challenge there thoughts regarding hope.Hope is a positive thing which often allows people to fight against the crap which life throws at you. Hope allows people to fight, it provides strength and without hope often people have nothing. When you're not having a good day you hope it gets better, you may think you do not believe in hope but the mind works in mysterious ways and if you think about it enough you will find that you believe in hope.

"Hope" is a thing with feathers.

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—

That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me. 

Emily Dickinson

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