Hope is fear.

They look like opposites. They’re not.

If we’re talking about a quick flash of hope—or a quick flash of fear—I’ve got no problem with either.

I’m talking about the kind that sticks around. In the mind. In the body. In the gut. That’s rumination. And I have no use for it. It clogs my thoughts and drains my energy.

Worse, it doesn’t stay in one lane. If you’re hoping for something, you’re also picturing what you don’t want to happen. That’s the flip side.

“I hope this happens” often means “I hope the other thing doesn’t.” Now you’re back in the loop—replaying something ugly, scary, or terrible—just because you wanted a little taste of hope.

Hope is fear in disguise.
The packaging is nicer.
But the loop is the same.