Hope does not anchor. It keeps you breathing as you're thrown all over the place, it keeps you beating even when you want to quit. Hope is like the old friend you struggle to love, but love anyway because it has always been there for you. It is something you dread, because without it, you have an excuse to take the easy way out. It is something people die for, and others live for.
HOPE. HOPE. HOPE.
How can something so uncertain, so intangible, so subjective, save a life?