You have hopes, all people do, even those with completely no chance of realizing them.  The hopes are what keep you going, keep you alive, willing you (yet ever so barely) to rise out of bed each morning.  Every so often, those hopes just die, and you're left with nothing to look fowardto.  Sure, in time, those hopes regrow (reflower) and become new desires.  ANd they are all that matters, really.  Everything you do seems to revolve around those hopes, consciously or unconsciously you strive to attian those things, sudden thoughts of desire that clig to our minds/memories like nothing else can.  Yet, most likely, the new growth will rot away as well, destroyed by circumstances that you just cannot control.  everything you ever wanted just seems a bit too far away, out of reach, or unwilling to go along with your dream.  You feel rejected, and become scarred, the wounds added to the old; your body becomes a roadmap of failure and lines where you were beaten.  Over time, you beocme numb, everything is already scarred so there's nothing else to really have happen.  Again, somehow those scars are able to momentarily heal, just like your hoeps, just to become warped once more; new scars enter where the old ones went away.  It's a cycle, you cannot get out of.  Your life has just become this way, even thought you never really guided it in any direction.  You continue on this way.  Maybe over time you become cold, numb to the point of complete loss of anything which mattered to you.  Maybe you don't.  Maybe you try to prevent yourself from becoming cold.  Maybe you try to improve your life, develop hopes faster (as soon as the old ones are deconstructed) in order to prevent anything but hoping (no down time for you, ever), if possible.  Maybe you try this for a while, and maybe it just doesn't work out the way you planned or hoped.  And maybe you'd overlook everything else if one of your hopes actually blossomed.  But it doesn't, it won't.  You've had enough of "there's always tomorrow."  You've had enough of "it will get better."  You've had enough.  Let coldness come.  For the memory of things that will never be.