Hope is a great imitator. In ways it’s just as blind as justice ought to be. Hope has no polarity; the context makes it desirable or undesirable, helpful or malignant.
Being hopeful is good. Most of the times, yes. For most of the people, yes. For most situations, yes. But there are always people who have agendas that transcend the normal utility of this feeling.
I have seen these people, I have seen their sorrows, i have seen their scarred emotions, all thanks to hope. Hope to them is like a cancer that keeps them anchored to the past. Prevents them from exploring newer option. Prevents them from acquiring better and more positive things.
I have seen hope that can become enemy of hope. Hope of things past (unacquirable, unrequited things) can tarnish hope for a better tomorrow. I have seen people with sleepless nights having this malignant hope continuously boring into their minds. Burning holes in their conscience with questions of ‘what-ifs’. Their existence is in a perpetual state of sadness. The move about like shadows. Not shadows of real objects but rather like shadows of ghosts; ill defined, causing only shrieks of fear and doubt. They are plunged into their own conscience. Their mind processing nothing but the ins and outs of the self. I have seen them getting labels of narcissism and self worship whereas their crime is their inability to exorcise themselves from the torments of hopes of things past.
Hope is the last thing that one may pray to give away. But that is what they want to give away, like wishing away a sore that refuses to heal.
Yes, hope is a malignant thing; it can be the most tormenting thing ever.