Sometimes, hope isn't like your favourite superhero, a well built person flying around, wearing a red cape. You know, a kind who'll come to rescue you when you call for help.
Sometimes, hope is like a tiny ant crawling on your neck praying not to be shooed away by you.
But we are so good at kicking the things that we truly need.
Sometimes, hope looks like a broken chair, a single shoe of the pair, torn ligament, swollen eyes, stinky handkerchiefs and irreparable clock on your wall. Hope sometimes looks like despair.
But she's there. Right infront you, with you, above you, around you, beneath you and within you. She may look a little different from what you had expected her to be (just like you might have looked a lot different from what hope had expected you to be), but hope looks exactly what she should look like.
Sometimes, she's awful and incomplete. Sometimes, she doesn't smell like your mother's love or father's care. Sometimes she doesn't sound like words of your friends. Sometimes she doesn't feel like the pages of your diary.
But you know what? She's there. Waving her hands from the crowd so that you could see her.
Wave back at her.
Find her in the pages of the book you didn't like. Find her in the fused bulb, empty packet of chips and broken photo frames.
I am sure, she's there.
Just waiting for you to see her.
Because she knows, the moment you'll realise that she's there, you'll be saved.