““My life is one screw up after another. I just wonder if anyone should keep thinking someday I'll be okay...” “That isn't really for you to decide.” He tilts his head. “Whether or not people should continue to hold out hope for you or not. That's their choice, not yours. You just have to deal with it.” “If you knew the circumstances, you might think differently.” I do know the circumstances, or at least a variation of them, and it doesn't make me think less of him—only I can't tell him that. So I say, “I don't think that matters. If people care about you, they won't give up on you, no matter what you've done in the past or what you do in the future. We aren't programmed that way. We're made to find hope in the most hopeless of places and in the people that seem the least likely to deserve it, because they really need it the most, and something in us knows that, at least subconsciously. It's what makes us human. No one is unworthy. Not even you. If people want to have faith in you, let them. And really, you can't stop them. It's not up to you.””
