Post by Appropouture (@libels) on Sat, 04 Jul 15 05:07:35 +0000 View Full Post I don’t know how good things can be. I would like to know, but I can’t even start to muster hope. The part of me that could hope has been frozen or dead or buried or broken for so many years, I don’t know if it’s still there or if it can feel anything. I can’t tell if you’re manipulating me or if you are genuinely a good person, or if you’re maybe somewhere in between. But I can’t hope, not yet. Hope can be a dangerous thing.