The Risk I Took on Hope

Lately, I’ve been stuck in a loop.

Not the dramatic kind. The quiet one. The kind where thoughts don’t shout, they linger. They circle. They hover, like they’re waiting for logic to untie them.

I could rationalise them for centuries and they would still be there. Same questions. Same replay. Same almosts.

But when I stop.When I rest.When my nervous system finally unclenches its fists.When I trust my intuition instead of interrogating it.

They soften. They loosen. They settle.

That’s the part that matters.

Because this didn’t begin in chaos.It began in hope.

For the first time in a long time, I let myself feel excited. Not guarded excitement. Not cautious optimism. The real thing. The kind that feels like a child leaning forward, eyes bright, heart open, already halfway in.

I was allowed to feel hopeful.I was allowed to share.I was allowed to connect from a happy self.

That version of me showed up.The little one.The bubbly one.The beam of light that doesn’t second guess her warmth.

And I thought, what’s the risk?

So I jumped.

I let myself hope.Believe.Try.

I really wanted this.I really liked him.

All the bubbles.All the butterflies.All the imagined adventures.The conversations that wander and the ones that land.Thinking and not thinking. Being and becoming.

This was me choosing not to overthink.Choosing instead to be the girl with hope in her hands, knowing full well that hope is sharp.

Because here’s the part no one talks about.

When you jump in like that, you don’t just risk rejection.You risk arriving fully.

And I did.

I was there.Happy.Ready.Open.

And he wasn’t.

Or maybe he was in his own way.Or maybe no one was wrong at all.Maybe timing is just a quiet thief.Maybe readiness doesn’t negotiate.

But the impact is the same.

I showed up with my whole chest exposed, and the moment didn’t meet me there. And when that happens, something collapses inward. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough to knock the breath out of you.

So the loop begins.

The replay.The wondering.The could have been.The did I leave too soon.The did I stay too long.The was it real or was it mine alone.

And suddenly I’m overthinking again.Not because I don’t trust myself.But because I cared.

This is the part I keep coming back to.

Connection is rare.The kind that feels calm and electric.The kind that feels familiar without being stale.The kind that makes you want to stay present instead of perform.

I don’t regret jumping.I regret that it didn’t land.

But maybe this story isn’t about regret at all.

Maybe it’s about honouring the version of me who still believes.The one who risks heartbreak because numbness is worse.The one who knows that warmth is not a weakness.

Maybe this isn’t a loop.Maybe it’s a lesson that keeps returning until I stop trying to solve it and let it be what it was.

A moment.A spark.A risk taken in good faith.

And maybe missing something special doesn’t mean it wasn’t special.

Maybe it means it was.