Is it the one thing we can rely on?
Even combat boots get holes, nail polish dries up to a useless clump of glittery flakes, and gum loses its flavor and gets all mushy. And hope certainly is like the force of all sorts of angels sitting on your shoulders combined, making you wish and long, deceitful, disappointing. My shoulders are broad from rowing all those years, but not for all the joy in the world will I suffer this, I won’t be the teacher when I want to be the one. Even if it is more painful and surprising than anything I could have and didn’t imagine, I want to stay true to myself.
Without pain there would be no healing, no reflectivity, no honest creativity, no truth. Pain is what it comes down to. Without pain there would be nothing joy and happiness could compare to but petty placeholders like jealousy or fear. Even though fear is pretty powerful itself but that’s another story.