Nothing hopeful ever does.
The young tree bends in the wind, each gust making it stronger.
If only we were like trees, but we’re not.
Consciousness comes with choice, and we can choose to break.
Or we can choose to become super-hard, but there’s little imagination and creativity with super-thick skin and an armour-plated heart.
We can, however, choose to become strong, imaginative, creative, and graceful.
Our characters develop through our struggles, and hope emerges out of our characters when they refuse to be overcome; instead of turning bitter and cynical, we choose to bring something beautiful into the world.
Beauty never comes easy.