Hope and the lack of it

I remember being a kid, a really hopeful and faithful kid, I'd wake up thinking that I would probably have a good day, I had such a bright spark and I had so many things to do and never complained, I was just the happiest kid growing up. Maybe it's just that I was a child, maybe it's just that I never actually thought about anything at all, maybe it's just the natural innocence of being unaware of what really goes on.

It's a huge spark in one's life, it's the main thing that keeps us striving; saying this might just feel empty but it's actually the most hopeful thing to hear (ironically), to know that there is a reason for you to keep striving is amazing, just to know that there just might be a reason to keep on going is truly haunting, in a good way of course.

Though, for me, that changed during time, maybe it's just a teenage crisis, maybe it's just the fact that I see things for how they are, maybe it's just immaturity coming from me; I don't know.
What I know is that it's gotten tiring, seeing every little plan I make go wrong, never waking up feeling well or just thinking that things aren't okay, it totally kills you.

I wouldn't say I've become hopeless, no, not at all, I still have a lot of hope inside me, it's just hidden under several layers of disappointment and humiliation of the daily life, knowing how every single day feels like just from living yesterday, being unable of controlling anything around you, unable of controlling even yourself. What's the point of being hopeful when all that hope leads to nothing but sameness? There's no hope if there's nothing to be wishing for, and whatever was left of hope in me, might be dying soon with me.