The hardest thing is letting go.

Especially when you still think you can save whatever the hell you're trying to save. It hurts when there is hope, but there is no actual chance.

Hope keeps us alive, at least that's what we like to tell ourselves, because the real thing keeping us alive are chances. Chances that someone is going to save us.

Hope only helps when there is a chance, it gets us to that chance. But it doesn't bring anything when all we lack is the chance.

It's why it hurt so much to let his hand go.

He didn't have a chance and if I continued to hold him, I wouldn't have one either. A sob I didn't know I was holding left me when I watched his face as he fell. It was one of understanding and comfort, but no amount of that could make it better.

I thought I could save him. I had hope. But he didn't have a chance. I did.