Steady Diet of Hope
Offering the benefit of doubt, I try to reconcile your lack of common decency with some form of decency.
Giving you the benefit of doubt, I play fast and loose with what common decency might be.
Maybe there’s something about decency I don’t understand. I’m neither Jesus nor Aristotle, after all. Maybe my conception of decency is too black and white. Maybe I need time for a more robust understanding of decency to evolve.
Maybe I’m just not sympathetic enough.
For your sake, I’ve stretched the definition of decency so thin, it’s completely transparent now. And I’ve pulled and knotted hope for your decency far beyond its limit.
I’ve endlessly consumed hope for a decency that’s never matched reality.
I’ve consumed hope that, in time, I might be proven wrong about your lack of common decency. I’ve closed but never locked the door in hope someday your common decency may enter the room with you.
I consume hope for your decency, but it’s synthesis with what’s real leaves me with splitting headaches. This hope causes me to vomit and violently project loose, watery stool. This steady diet of hope rips through my mind and organs.
Hope for your common decency confuses me. Hope for your common decency causes by belly to be in constant pain. This steady diet of false hope leaves me fragile, frail, malnourished and emaciated.
With all these discomforts I haven’t had a peaceful night’s rest in years.
With all these discomforts there’s nothing else to feel or think about.
Tonight I’m giving up hope. As the number of my days grows shorter, it’s finally time to get some rest.