you know there's something out there. "a whole world", you said.

you aren't hopeless. 

though sometimes you might (not) feel (anything) 

it: until you control it  by your own hand. 

you aren't one of them, the hopeless don't have that power:

to end it all when they see fit. 

them, well, they only give up & in. 

on the life they thought they couldn't control

&

to the society they didn't choose. 

they think they're dead, so they become one with their thoughts.

they think they're alive, so they become what another wants them to be (the same). 

their hands aren't their own. 

you, my friend, are abstract and unyielding. 

"i don't understand how people live like that..."

you aren't hopeless.

you know there's something out there.

 "...a whole world", you said. 

you decide when football season is over. 

while they just sit and wait...