By Amy Sisson

FEBRUARY 20, 2024

I fear I will no longer want to dance, but still I hope to hear my favorite song.

I fear another betrayal from the facade of a “trusted” adult, but still I hope for discernment.

I fear more emotional distress, but still I hope for spiritual protection.

I fear my past affecting my future always, but still I hope for it not to.

I fear people will hug me even less this coming year, but I hope I can reach out first.

I fear more shocking, unexpected, and life changing news, but I hope it brings me joy, happiness, and peace.

I fear abandonment, but I hope for longevity in my earthly sacred connections,

I fear the tears will never stop coming, but deep down I really hope that they never do.

I fear I will revert to old ways, but I hope the lessons of new replace those of old.

I fear the exhaustion will never cease, but I hope for a restful sleep.

I fear time will slip away fast, but I hope I am able to slow down.

I fear my heart will turn cold with anger and devastation, but I hope for even more resilience.

I fear being misunderstood, but hope to stand up taller.

I fear I will forget the intensity of this past year, but I also hope I never do.

I fear pessimism, but I hope for optimism.

I fear I will disappoint, but I hope to live unapologetically, still.

I fear I will feel small and unworthy, but still I hope to take up space.

I fear the lessons will fade, but I hope for soft and gentle reminders.

I fear incessant triggers, but hope for healthy coping mechanisms.

I fear I will take life for granted, but I hope for each day to feel like the biggest blessing I’ve ever been given.

I fear my voice will tremble when I continue to speak up and protect myself, but I hope I still do it anyway.

I fear loneliness in a room full of my loved ones, but I hope for the comfort of a kind stranger.

I fear feeling lost, but I hope to still wander with that of a child’s curiosity.

I fear I will want to give up, but I hope I never do.

I fear I will feel weak, but I hope to remember my strength.

I fear death, but I hope it can come peaceful and painless.