Losing hope is like waking up in a room so dark you can’t see the way out. You try to remember the way, put one foot in front of the other, reach out for a wall, something to grab onto, but there’s nothing there. So you stumble, you stumble, you stumble until you fall.

Losing hope is staying down because you’re tired and it doesn’t even hurt anymore. You’re numb to it. There’s something else that hurts more, anyway. Something ugly, inside.

Losing hope is not even trying to get back up.

Losing hope is letting the darkness swallow you whole.