Hope is what makes your bones ache when rain falls in the spring. Those cracks in your vertebrae the only remnants of your D1 dreams.
Hope is why it bites like an alligator when you love Catherine to Pluto and back but she sleeps with your best bud anyway.
Hope is why those rejection letters feel like swallowing a whole hive of bees.
Hope is chewing Red Man until your gums bleed, lying to your dentist, and only flossing once a month because you know in your heart of hearts that cancer is for old people and you will live forever.
Maybe I shouldn’t talk about hope like a disease. Maybe just give the people what they want. Give them obvious political points about a future where everyone is equal and happy and smiling. A future where all the fires have been snuffed out, thirsts quenched, hunger fed. Maybe, just maybe, Utopia is a world where there’s nothing left to hope for.
This is a small representation of the high-quality writings you’ll find in every issue of TIFERET.
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