My life hasn't always been this way. I grew up an only child, spoilt, loved, dressed up in little pink dresses with frilly, fluffy bows. I would run through the lush grassy fields, my father chasing me, laughing. He always caught me, as I could never run too fast on my little toddler legs. He would swing me around singing my name in a little rhyme he had made up:
"Hope, Hope, I love you my shining Hope, love you my darling sweet. With you I'll always be able to cope and never with darkness will I meet."
Hope.
Shining through all mist and fog.
An anchor in times of distress and misery.
Why had all my hopes been shattered?
Why had my light been blown out?
Was there still hope?
Not for me.