Paralleled Mysteries 3: 'Tricycle of Hope.'

 Nauseated by her built in claustrophobia, conjured from clusters of suppressed thoughts and emotions. Yet no change to her inquisition.

Facts tied to the internal cord of her intuition, the aligned displacement of her quest. The abnormality of the obstacles she faced were now like an anvil in the debths of a black hole, threatening her hope for success.

When she was little, her mother punctuated once on the tricycle of hope and its adored partnership with faith. 

Facilitating on the believe of its importance even in situations where outcomes where inevitable failure was the only resolution.

If the mysteries of the universe where kept in a box, locked away and hidden beyond reach, she thought to her self. She would have found it. But her questions was something deities found as a natural disorder.

Love, another mystery but she was told already that it was a feeling beyond words, a connection between people, or something. Was another loss in her struggle for visual facts. 

The mechanism of hope, she felt, was taking her for a fool. In such a way it was no more of an internal dispute but crisis between her and her findings. 

But the tugging memory of her mother's words kept coming back to her, like a tumour in the brain it was a pain in the mind, like an unwanted guest, it kept coming uninvited. 

Deep down in her soul, she comprehended the irregularities to her desired findings. She acknowledged the identified rhetorical as unexplainable. But she was just too stubborn to admit to this facts. Even if given on a silver platter. 

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