Conrad Julius Ecklie (conrad_ecklie) wrote,
Conrad Julius Ecklie
conrad_ecklie

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Theatrical Muse: Week 256: Question 256

Name: Conrad Ecklie

Fandom:
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Word Count: 854


What do you hope for?


The notion of hope is as fallible as it is weak and easily destroyed. The human race, at large, keeps faithful in this thought that hope is a thing that can change, everything, everything they’ve ever wanted or desired. They consider hope to be something that can help make wishes come true, that can put faith behind an idea or a concept, which will hopefully, just suddenly, realise itself as a fact, and not fiction. I do not discount myself as human, no, I am well aware of my humanity, but I do not, I definitely do not, hold the idea of hope, often, let alone rarely, or at all. To be hopeful is to rely on forces other than yourself, to get work done, to be hopeful, in my case, in my life, is to be weak. I, myself, must achieve what I want to, via my own hands, and not those created of hope. Hope is not transcendental, hope is, always, and easily, subject to awful failure. I do not accept failure in my life, therefore, I do not hope, I simply, rely on myself.

See, the matter of the fact is that, many years ago now, decades even, I killed off hope within my body, within my heart, mind, soul, whatever you prefer to call it. Whatever holds hope within the human body, and I concede this weakness to the mind, I killed it off, shut it down, whatever. Simply put it, to be honest, I don’t need to be hopeful, I don’t need hope because I am stronger than being subject to weakness and mistakes. I am not perfect, no, far from it, but I am beyond hope. I do not need hope, and in my life, I hardly ever have. I have lost faith in hope, and I did this a long time ago, throwing it away with the act brought about by what little faith I have left in humanity, and the awareness of its endless fallacies.

Do I miss out? Is that what you are thinking? Do I miss out on life because I do not hope for anything? I do not, I assure you, miss out, as it might be put. In abandoning hope, I replaced it with will and determination, and because of these things, I generally achieve whatever I set out to do, within the reasons and limitations of society, culture and life in general. You hope that I have hope, don’t you? You are a foolish imbecile, and see, here I succeed. I do not hope that you are not foolish and weak, I know you are foolish and weak, and therefore, I am never disappointed.


He danced, swung, moved, slid across the floor in perfectly executed movements, made to match the beat of the music winding its own way out of the radio in the kitchen, and into the lounge room. Something that he did not generally listen to, something he definitely would not have listened to in his childhood, because music was not that way back then. Nonetheless, it was music, and it had a beat, and it was suited to randomly made movements of dance and splendour, and so, that was what he did. In a way, to any outside spectator looking inside from the outside, it might have seemed sad. A lonely man, a man alone in his lounge room, inside a house old and dulled with age and terror. If any spectator had known about his past, the house, the circumstances, the occasion, would have seemed sadder still, darker more so, and without joy.

He danced until his body stiffened with lack of salt, of energy, and then he pushed past it, moving as the song changed and the sun sunk down in the sky, errantly, hopefully, leaving a few struggling rays dancing across the clouds and the Las Vegas skyline. Conrad Ecklie danced until then, and afterwards, he switched of the radio, had a drink of cold water and sat down on his couch, hands curled, nerves aching and dull, heart thudding a rhythmic beat in his chest. The hope was gone, the hope had never been there, he hadn’t been dancing to get rid of hope, he had been dancing to get exercise, to free his body of the troubles, the dangers and the whims of a day where, as usual, death surrounded him and enveloped him in an all encompassing smother of crying relatives and case reports. It was simple, those were simple reasons. He did not have hope, anyway. He had never had hope. Never.

In life, I do not hold any kind of hope, not anymore, not ever. Hope is for fools, for the foolish that believe that life has something better to offer them than what they have, or will achieve. I do not hope for something better, I plan and I strategise for it, I work towards the goal and I obtain it in the end, if I want or need it badly enough. I do not hope, because hoping is a pointless emotion that always ends in failure and disappointment.
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