“All this time,” he said. “I’ve been hoping and hoping, but even when I dared to let myself dream brightly, I never truly believed I would ever be standing here.”
He held out his hand. The thing was so small, such a surprise that it would be so small. But what it would do…
They were strangers, in a way, but they sat beside each other in class every day. They didn’t talk, except for a few words exchanged, about the homework, about the lesson. They didn’t have at each other when they passed each other by. Their contact involved brief, accidental touches and brushes of the arm. And yet, she can’t help but feel as if they had a connection. She can’t help but hope that she understands her, and the other way around.
He was a brave sole hoping that his light to show him what his life would be would come. He begged and pleaded with himself and god before deciding no one was going to answer and he leap off into the world he knew, just to be hit by the sidewalk.
I’m hoping for more time out in the woods. Mushroom hunting, wildcrafting, hiking, bird watching. Deep quiet. Deep peace. Deep connection. These are the things that come from moments surrounded by tall, tall trees. These are things I need, but forget about in the daily humdrum of life in town. More time in the woods.
I was hoping you’d settle down. Hoping you’d find your path and follow it; hoping you’d find some peace. But that hasn’t happened, not yet, and I don’t know how to help you. Not anymore.
It was hopeless. Any thought that I could be better than second best was a delusion of grandeur, a broken chandelier inside my own mind. I come crashing down each time, failing to learn from my mistakes. I should know by now that nothing is worth hoping for, since all will fall through my fingers like grains of sand.
I was – yes – hoping to get out of that room from the minute I walked in. Lie. I was there all the time and even now I’m there. Don’t you think it curious?– I’m never more there than when I’m only completely here.
hoping to make a change, a man steps out of his front door with a new hop in his step. When he reaches his car door, the familiarity sends a tinge of doubt through his mind. Is this what I’m looking for? With a sigh, he opens the door and lumbers into the drivers seat. “Maybe the same isn’t so bad.” He grumbles.
I hope that my future is just as bright as I’ve imagined it. I hope my friends go on to live out their lives but don’t forget me. I hope that the world will get over all this B.S. and just deal with their problems, instead of hiding from them. I hope that everything will be alright, just like they said it would.
I didn’t know what change I was hoping for, but, I knew I needed something around me to change. This inactivity, this depression and anxiety. Something I couldn’t control must have caused it. Some unknown circumstance was to blame.
I was wrong.
But, somewhere deep down, I always knew that. I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it.
hope-ing or hop-ing
I hop king
sing to my wings that flap in the
wind that blows through the rabbit’s ears
that hear it’s feet
hoping
along
to that same hopeful
song
In the end he was hoping to make the confession he wanted to make in a very long time. Shaking from fear of not being accepted made it even harder for him but also ensured him in his decision.
I am hoping to work my way out of the mess. It is like hoping to get the first grade in my exams. I am also hoping that I have a good weekend. Hoping to enjoy some fun time with my pet dog as well. It is no good hoping that all good times that have passed will come back again. It is like hoping to see the crows turn white.
I’m always hoping that something cool is going to happen. That something different will happen in my life that will make me stand out from the rest. Hoping, wishing, waiting, and yet nothing ever happens, that day never comes and I’m stuck being a normal mortal like the rest of society. Waiting patiently to die an uneventful death. So, I guess I’ll just keep focussing on the horizon, knowing I’ll never become anything at all. Hoping something will lift me from this lacklustre misery I call life.
Heels gliding over water, all this talk of money, loose skin bouncing up and down, I see those houses on TV, They really don’t have anything to do with me, Wedding after Wedding I attend, Too old to be a flower girl, Too stuck to the wall to wed, Boys rip off my petals when I walk by and I’m told, “You better feel proud. Those petals we take and stuff into our pockets, those are your power. You pay us in petals.” Believe it, they say. Well, I never asked for you to take anything. I don’t care where I am. I didn’t ask. Cigarette smoke is my mask and it doesn’t let in any sunlight. I’m crooked and now they notice. Worn down and now they can tell. I better believe it. I better keep believing.
Ruminate.
Take an idea and spin it around
in a big washing machine of a brain.
Then shut it down and let the ideas spill out
while they’re still sopping wet.
Then hang them out to dry without checking the weather.
i was hoping to have a balloon i could use to kill one of my roommates with. the helium would be so toxic and infermary based he would be taken to the hospital then lifted up into the movie up and there would be no dough dough bird because he’d actually be dead. he’d be in hell. with dante aghilieri. chilling. veggin out with no vegetables in sight. just the dead and the dead’s decrepit feces scattered everywhere. in every which way. this is so morbid now. am i done? or is this still going. dough dough. that bird was pretty awesome. BLAWK! IT SAID. and then i said it. oh me oh my.
The surprise showed on everyone’s face when it was R who came storming through the swinging door. He didn’t spare a glance to any of the obviously eavesdropping group, just ran out the door into the wind and snow. It wasn’t quite the result they had been hoping for.
“So…who’s going in?” Courfeyrac piped up. No one had a contingency plan for this situation, unfortunately.
Combeferre sighed. Technically, he hadn’t really been listening in, he told himself. It was just that everyone else was there and so where else should he be?
I spend most days after that curled up on my floor. Part of me knows that it won’t do me any good in the grand scheme of things; part of me lays there, hoping that death will come sooner than my body will allow.
If a rabbit hops and a dreamer hopes, and the waves of tomorrow crash on the sand we sink our feet into today, can we really reach all we desire? If were hoping to hope but were nowhere near achieving, is it a waste of time? May I sit on a balcony and hope for Romeo to arrive? May I hold my breath and hope to survive? Is hope pathetic in a way but our savior in another? Where does hope go when all hope is lost? If I may see colors in the dark and stars shine brighter midnight, will hope reside forever in the dark cortex of my mind?
It was a hope she kept to herself, even as she went about her daily life.
It was a hope that wasn’t meant to pass.
Still, it kept her warm, and as time passed and she grew, overcoming the past two years and becoming once more the woman she’d been, she found herself thinking often of him.
When he’d last seen her she’d been a shell of who she originally was.
She was determined that if–when–he came back, she’d be the “sunshine” he’d originally fallen for, happy and living her own life, not subdued and captive to somebody else’s ideas of what was “proper.”
here i am. i am sitting. sitting on the park bench where were cried. well- i cried. but i cried with hope. thinking that you’ll forgive me or i will get better. i hoped for these, but did i work for them? how could these ever be possible…. for me, anyway.
but that’s why i have hope.
I’m hoping that I’ve made the right decision.
I’m hoping that what I’ve hoped for is really in my grasp
And not in my imagination.
I’m hoping that those I’ve hurt will forgive me.
I’m hoping that those I love know that I love them.
I’m hoping beyond all hope that there really is a hope to hope for.
I’m hoping I get somewhere in life. I’m hoping I do the right thing. I’m hoping I end up with someone I love, and I’m hoping I don’t hurt the person I love most. I will though. I know I will. I’ll crush his dreams. I’ll crush his hopes, though I hope against hope I won’t. I know I’m selfish. I’m selfish and sad and narcissistic. I am I am I am. I hate myself sometimes. Is that why I want to run off to Africa? So I can avoid these decisions. heartbreaks. dissappointments. If I’m not here I won’t feel it, right? If I’m not here I can’t hurt anyone, right? I guess. I guess that’s how it works. Probably not. Hurt is hurt whatever causes it. Hoping. Hoping I can see what I’m doing and have the courage to stop.
I’ll always be hoping. Hoping that you’ll somehow love me again. I know if I were in your shoes I would forgive you. But we’re very different. Like the sun and the rain we have so little in common and I will always turn you to steam and you will always block me out. The more I shine the more you suffer and I am sorry for that. But I’ll always hope that somehow I’ll be able to break through your cloudy walls and make you sparkle, I suppose that will only happen from a distance.
Hoping the search was over, that it was it, he was “the one”. Yearning constantly, ignoring that it was a fight to keep it going. Hoping only made the hurt of realizing it wasn’t there that much more painful.
I was hoping to have everything figured out by now. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. I’ve learned that you have to take what you want out of life before it gone and never question your instincts.
there’s nothing quite as bad as a wish unfulfilled
a dreaming living reverie, a life that stands too still
here’s hoping for a rainy day to wash the stain away
to open up the flowers that bloom around the bay
and inspire to perspire the desire that’s left to say.
And there it was.
“All this time,” he said. “I’ve been hoping and hoping, but even when I dared to let myself dream brightly, I never truly believed I would ever be standing here.”
He held out his hand. The thing was so small, such a surprise that it would be so small. But what it would do…
They were strangers, in a way, but they sat beside each other in class every day. They didn’t talk, except for a few words exchanged, about the homework, about the lesson. They didn’t have at each other when they passed each other by. Their contact involved brief, accidental touches and brushes of the arm. And yet, she can’t help but feel as if they had a connection. She can’t help but hope that she understands her, and the other way around.
He was a brave sole hoping that his light to show him what his life would be would come. He begged and pleaded with himself and god before deciding no one was going to answer and he leap off into the world he knew, just to be hit by the sidewalk.
I’m hoping for more time out in the woods. Mushroom hunting, wildcrafting, hiking, bird watching. Deep quiet. Deep peace. Deep connection. These are the things that come from moments surrounded by tall, tall trees. These are things I need, but forget about in the daily humdrum of life in town. More time in the woods.
I was hoping you’d settle down. Hoping you’d find your path and follow it; hoping you’d find some peace. But that hasn’t happened, not yet, and I don’t know how to help you. Not anymore.
It was hopeless. Any thought that I could be better than second best was a delusion of grandeur, a broken chandelier inside my own mind. I come crashing down each time, failing to learn from my mistakes. I should know by now that nothing is worth hoping for, since all will fall through my fingers like grains of sand.
rabbit
hoping mad
children jumping
kangaroo
ball bouncing
I was – yes – hoping to get out of that room from the minute I walked in. Lie. I was there all the time and even now I’m there. Don’t you think it curious?– I’m never more there than when I’m only completely here.
hoping to make a change, a man steps out of his front door with a new hop in his step. When he reaches his car door, the familiarity sends a tinge of doubt through his mind. Is this what I’m looking for? With a sigh, he opens the door and lumbers into the drivers seat. “Maybe the same isn’t so bad.” He grumbles.
yes
I hope that my future is just as bright as I’ve imagined it. I hope my friends go on to live out their lives but don’t forget me. I hope that the world will get over all this B.S. and just deal with their problems, instead of hiding from them. I hope that everything will be alright, just like they said it would.
I am hoping that this will sound reasonably coherent by the time sixty seconds is up. If not, i will extremely stupid.
Although she knew she shouldn’t see him again she was secretly hoping that he might come into the club.
I was hoping for a change.
I didn’t know what change I was hoping for, but, I knew I needed something around me to change. This inactivity, this depression and anxiety. Something I couldn’t control must have caused it. Some unknown circumstance was to blame.
I was wrong.
But, somewhere deep down, I always knew that. I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it.
I was just hoping for a change.
“I hope…” Those were his last words.
What did he hope for? What was on his mind before he died?
i hope she will be mine
hope-ing or hop-ing
I hop king
sing to my wings that flap in the
wind that blows through the rabbit’s ears
that hear it’s feet
hoping
along
to that same hopeful
song
In the end he was hoping to make the confession he wanted to make in a very long time. Shaking from fear of not being accepted made it even harder for him but also ensured him in his decision.
I am hoping to work my way out of the mess. It is like hoping to get the first grade in my exams. I am also hoping that I have a good weekend. Hoping to enjoy some fun time with my pet dog as well. It is no good hoping that all good times that have passed will come back again. It is like hoping to see the crows turn white.
hoping for a change
slight occurrences
but no start
where did time go?
it’s all relative
hoping for a change
slight occurrences
but no start
where did time go?
it’s all relative
when hope tags along
very similar to hopping and often confused with it
I’m always hoping that something cool is going to happen. That something different will happen in my life that will make me stand out from the rest. Hoping, wishing, waiting, and yet nothing ever happens, that day never comes and I’m stuck being a normal mortal like the rest of society. Waiting patiently to die an uneventful death. So, I guess I’ll just keep focussing on the horizon, knowing I’ll never become anything at all. Hoping something will lift me from this lacklustre misery I call life.
Heels gliding over water, all this talk of money, loose skin bouncing up and down, I see those houses on TV, They really don’t have anything to do with me, Wedding after Wedding I attend, Too old to be a flower girl, Too stuck to the wall to wed, Boys rip off my petals when I walk by and I’m told, “You better feel proud. Those petals we take and stuff into our pockets, those are your power. You pay us in petals.” Believe it, they say. Well, I never asked for you to take anything. I don’t care where I am. I didn’t ask. Cigarette smoke is my mask and it doesn’t let in any sunlight. I’m crooked and now they notice. Worn down and now they can tell. I better believe it. I better keep believing.
Ruminate.
Take an idea and spin it around
in a big washing machine of a brain.
Then shut it down and let the ideas spill out
while they’re still sopping wet.
Then hang them out to dry without checking the weather.
i was hoping to have a balloon i could use to kill one of my roommates with. the helium would be so toxic and infermary based he would be taken to the hospital then lifted up into the movie up and there would be no dough dough bird because he’d actually be dead. he’d be in hell. with dante aghilieri. chilling. veggin out with no vegetables in sight. just the dead and the dead’s decrepit feces scattered everywhere. in every which way. this is so morbid now. am i done? or is this still going. dough dough. that bird was pretty awesome. BLAWK! IT SAID. and then i said it. oh me oh my.
What the world needs now is hope, sweet hope.
I’m hoping against hope. I’m hoping to have some hope.
The world is a better place because there are folks who are hoping.
Hoping is something good.
Positive things come from hoping.
Suddenly, I want to jump up and down on one foot.
It’s the little things that catch your eye. Before you know it, it whispers in your ear, “Shhh, or they’ll hear us.”
The surprise showed on everyone’s face when it was R who came storming through the swinging door. He didn’t spare a glance to any of the obviously eavesdropping group, just ran out the door into the wind and snow. It wasn’t quite the result they had been hoping for.
“So…who’s going in?” Courfeyrac piped up. No one had a contingency plan for this situation, unfortunately.
Combeferre sighed. Technically, he hadn’t really been listening in, he told himself. It was just that everyone else was there and so where else should he be?
I spend most days after that curled up on my floor. Part of me knows that it won’t do me any good in the grand scheme of things; part of me lays there, hoping that death will come sooner than my body will allow.
If a rabbit hops and a dreamer hopes, and the waves of tomorrow crash on the sand we sink our feet into today, can we really reach all we desire? If were hoping to hope but were nowhere near achieving, is it a waste of time? May I sit on a balcony and hope for Romeo to arrive? May I hold my breath and hope to survive? Is hope pathetic in a way but our savior in another? Where does hope go when all hope is lost? If I may see colors in the dark and stars shine brighter midnight, will hope reside forever in the dark cortex of my mind?
It was a hope she kept to herself, even as she went about her daily life.
It was a hope that wasn’t meant to pass.
Still, it kept her warm, and as time passed and she grew, overcoming the past two years and becoming once more the woman she’d been, she found herself thinking often of him.
When he’d last seen her she’d been a shell of who she originally was.
She was determined that if–when–he came back, she’d be the “sunshine” he’d originally fallen for, happy and living her own life, not subdued and captive to somebody else’s ideas of what was “proper.”
here i am. i am sitting. sitting on the park bench where were cried. well- i cried. but i cried with hope. thinking that you’ll forgive me or i will get better. i hoped for these, but did i work for them? how could these ever be possible…. for me, anyway.
but that’s why i have hope.
I’m hoping that I’ve made the right decision.
I’m hoping that what I’ve hoped for is really in my grasp
And not in my imagination.
I’m hoping that those I’ve hurt will forgive me.
I’m hoping that those I love know that I love them.
I’m hoping beyond all hope that there really is a hope to hope for.
I’m hoping I get somewhere in life. I’m hoping I do the right thing. I’m hoping I end up with someone I love, and I’m hoping I don’t hurt the person I love most. I will though. I know I will. I’ll crush his dreams. I’ll crush his hopes, though I hope against hope I won’t. I know I’m selfish. I’m selfish and sad and narcissistic. I am I am I am. I hate myself sometimes. Is that why I want to run off to Africa? So I can avoid these decisions. heartbreaks. dissappointments. If I’m not here I won’t feel it, right? If I’m not here I can’t hurt anyone, right? I guess. I guess that’s how it works. Probably not. Hurt is hurt whatever causes it. Hoping. Hoping I can see what I’m doing and have the courage to stop.
I’ll always be hoping. Hoping that you’ll somehow love me again. I know if I were in your shoes I would forgive you. But we’re very different. Like the sun and the rain we have so little in common and I will always turn you to steam and you will always block me out. The more I shine the more you suffer and I am sorry for that. But I’ll always hope that somehow I’ll be able to break through your cloudy walls and make you sparkle, I suppose that will only happen from a distance.
Hoping the search was over, that it was it, he was “the one”. Yearning constantly, ignoring that it was a fight to keep it going. Hoping only made the hurt of realizing it wasn’t there that much more painful.
I was hoping to have everything figured out by now. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. I’ve learned that you have to take what you want out of life before it gone and never question your instincts.
there’s nothing quite as bad as a wish unfulfilled
a dreaming living reverie, a life that stands too still
here’s hoping for a rainy day to wash the stain away
to open up the flowers that bloom around the bay
and inspire to perspire the desire that’s left to say.
Hope is what hold me together. Though it seems that I am slowly being torn apart, hope always find a way to stitch me up again.