I've entitled this post "False Hope" but perhaps a better title would be "Disillusionment". In the end, it's basically the same thing, although, I feel like the latter probably gives a more accurate depiction of my feelings, since it reflects a certain lack of sense.
With that introduction, I know you are intrigued as to what I'm even writing about now. So I will tell you: Just a few examples of a scenario I find myself often.
You know how when you imagine something so many times, you think that it could possibly come true? And then when it doesn't, you are sorely disappointed even though the most rational part of you believes that there is absolutely no justified reason for being disappointed because the scenario was never plausible in the first place?
Like imagining what life would be like without a thorn in your side without actually going through the process of removing said thorn - and then being upset that it's festering.
Or knowing that you are built nothing like a Victoria Secret model, but still trying on a bathing suit and being shocked when it doesn't fit you the way that it does on the commercial.
And maybe most upsetting: fancying yourself in "love" with the perfect guy, knowing that he is way out of your league. Not just in looks (although, those certainly) but in talent, personality and spirituality. And then seeing him out with another girl.
In all those scenarios, you know what the outcome is. You. Know. It. But there is still that little bit of hope (read: disillusionment) that makes you think that somehow it will end up as your fantasies do. But really, that's like putting garlic salt in a cake and expecting it to turn into sugar. Or trying to get 2+2 = 9,648. It ain't ever going to happen. But that won't stop the fantasies. Which means, it won't stop the disappointment.
It's really just too bad, though, because my daydreams are really much more exciting than what real life churns out.