When I was younger I used to be a hopeful young lad. I would look out upon the world and hope that things would turn out alright. I hoped that I would find a good job and live a happy life.

Then I turned 13. I am not quite sure of what happened. Perhapse it had something to do with the girl I hoped to would see how awesome I was and would tell her friends to pass along the message that she liked me. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I did not get into the high school I had hoped for. Then again maybe it was because I didn’t get some graduation gift that I held in my hopeful prayers.

It was that summer when I stopped hoping. It was that summer when I grabbed my balls and started taming the world around me.

Hope is a silent sedative which destroys your mind, body, and soul. It comes from the Devil’s hand.

Many of you will not understand how something that appears pure could be so vile. Why recognize the terrid lifestyle you lead when you can hope that tomorrow will be better. Toothless,  mangy hair and weeping sores.

Hope is the panis et circenses given freely by liars, tyrants, and used car salesmen.

Why prepare for the apocalyptic climax of your life when you can hope that all will be well. Why learn self-reliance when you hope others will bail you out.

Your enemies converge upon you. Their smiles illuminated by the burning village behind them. Your ears are savagely assaulted by the cries of those that have succumbed. They slowly inch forward pushing your back into the wall. There is obvious glee on their mugs and the smell of their arousal is repugnant. They must sate their gluttonous desire to see you whimper at their feet as they slowly and methodically with practiced hands destroy every last vestige of your self.

The hopeful man may entertain immature thoughts of finding himself at the right time and right place where these goons take pity upon him and let him scurry away.

The hopeful man is slaughtered and his flesh stretched into a war drum. The rest of his remains consumed by pigs.

However what if this man was not hopeful. What if this man did not rely on comforting words and the hypothetical. What if this man decided that the world was to be squeezed by his own phalanges. What if this man saw the truthbefore him and acted.

Bared his fangs. Fought instead of fled. Became posessed by a desire greater than his aggressors. Spartacus.

He may surprise the scum before him enough to escape. He may perish.

However he goes on his own terms. He did not hope for a deus ex machina. Nay. He set the stage and gave the truest performance that one can ever give.

Ensepulcher the word hope and set the catacomb aflame.

No longer hope. Do.

Do not hope that you will do well in life. Make it so. Put all your energy into accomplishing that what you wish.

Without pain nothing has value.

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