Happy Endings

I like happy endings. They are well, happy. Cue music, the monologue and the serendipitous turn of events. I love them. How could you not?

But...I don't know if I believe in them anymore. Hope is a strange thing. It can keep you going with literally nothing, raise you up in the face of abject darkness and propel you into motion.

And moving I am. But I'm tired. And my hope is fading and my heart is heavy, slowing down with every beat and every step. But I'll keep moving until it stops. Because hope, in all it's perverse half truths, is still a beautiful thing. So I keep moving, in hope of a destination.