Two sides of the same coin

I used to believe that hope is real. Hope is a good thing, it gave us those bumpy feeling. We were made to be hopeful, hoping that there's something good to fight for. It acted as humanity's last trump card against all kind of hardship.

One day, everything seemed so wrong. What I believed were rendered irrelevant in the presence of despair. The natural enemy of hope, despair, an abomination, born out of great expectation. What made me still intact with my sanity, was my hope, yet I was rendered powerless as I face the truth : there's nothing I can do. 

I was ready to give up, yet my inner reason echoed loudly, telling me not to. The curse was also the blessing, the disease and a remedy for my "illness". I wont deny the fact that the thing that made me desperate were also the thing that kept me from being insane. So, it was settled. I will endure all the madness from within, while looking the cure for my illness: all for the sake of my sanity