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hopeless

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... but I could also write about love. How a hand can silence thousands of voices and how someone__ smell can make you feel at home even though you__e a million miles away fromhomeand have you ever hurt someone you love? Because you__e angry. Because you__e disappointed and sad and you just really wanted to love and be loved in returnbut life got in the way and you both said things that should never be said and you__e angry but don__ know how to. Because you still feel this strange love for him, but you__e also fucking angry and you want to hit him, but then hug him because hurting him is hurting yourself, and then hit him again because you__e angry! and so you fall on your knees because you__e hopeless to yourself and your own emotionsand that__ love, my friend.

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Although I'm an atheist, I try not to crap all over people's belief in God. It may be nothing more than a placebo, a fairy tale that gives the hopeless hope, but sometimes a little hope is all people need to get through the day. Imagine a unit of soldiers under heavy enemy fire. They are told by their superiors to hold their position, even in the face of overwhelming fire power. The soldiers are being told that reinforcements are on the way, and that thought alone gives them the hope and courage to continue fighting, even if ultimately the reinforcements never arrive. I think some people simply need to believe that God is sending them reinforcements, to get through another day.

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I was deluded, and I knew it. Worse: my love for Pippa was muddied-up below the waterline with my mother, with my mother's death, with losing my mother and not being able to get her back. All that blind, infantile hunger to save and be saved, to repeat the past and make it different, had somehow attached itself, ravenously, to her. There was an instability in it, a sickness. I was seeing things that weren't there. I was only one step away from some trailer park loner stalking a girl he'd spotted in the mall. For the truth of it was: Pippa and I saw each other maybe twice a year; we e-mailed and texted, though with no great regularity; when she was in town we loaned each other books and went to the movies; we were friends; nothing more. My hopes for a relationship with her were wholly unreal, whereas my ongoing misery, and frustration, were an all-too-horrible reality. Was groundless, hopeless, unrequited obsession any way to waste the rest of my life?

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No person, collection of people, institution, government or organization of any kind can in any way promise to meet all of my needs for no person, collection of people, institution, government or organization possesses the array of resources necessary to do that. And so, I am left with the reality that either there is a God who can meet all of my needs, or I__e been stranded in an existence that created me with needs that the existence itself cannot meet.