Sunday 30 April 2017

Hope: a thing of magic

Madam – Hope is magic.

So here's the bit where I'm supposed to fly. Be optimistic. Successful. Only I'm falling not flying, and the sun's warm and something in me tells me even if my wings appeared in this moment, strong and wide and beautiful as I could ever dare to imagine, that somehow the self-doubt, the bad news, and the scars of the past would make me some kind of ridiculous Icarus because people are watching and I might fail again.

And in the fleeting moments of confidence I'd be blinded to my own flaws and I'd burn and the world would witness.

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