When the going gets tough, the soft get running.
I recognize each of us has different levels of ability, but it is not wrong to expect a minimum amount of courage when facing life’s trials. Everyone needs enough bravery to at least get out of bed in the morning. And people certainly shouldn’t be afraid to talk to other people. We can’t function in society when we are governed by irrational fears.
On the other hand, knowing when to run from dangerous situations is part of survival. We take a risk when getting close to people. They could learn our weaknesses and exploit them. And becoming attached means it hurts when they part from us. Honestly, I don’t know how much optimism or pessimism I am supposed to have. Either choice presents risk.
Hope keeps me going. It’s more than just being positive. Not every positive person looks forward with hope. And a negative person can still be filled with hope. Hope means you can keep your eye on the prize on the good days as well as the bad days. It keeps me treating people with respect no matter what I am feeling.
I’ve met many good men and women who don’t possess hope. They give up on people at the slightest provocation. They would come to me, tell me I’m a friend, and then leave without saying goodbye. I’ve endured so much heartache because of people who run. I’m not their enemy, yet they run. I still love them, but they are gone.
Still I hope. So many people to meet along my journey. How can I give up on any one of them while I’m on my way to meet many more? I hope to one day encounter those who are running in my direction hoping to stay next to me.