Hopefulness

You don't realize the wall you'd constructed around yourself until it begins to crack.
The ramparts you had raised in defense, every new stone laid with every instance you felt faith broken, defensive placements of cynicism against the rhetoric used against you.
All 'round-about you the wall rose higher and higher until you'd enclosed yourself in bitterness against a culture that had seemingly purged you from its midst.
But when the cracks begin to appear you realize how high the wall had become.
And when the cracks grow and spread the width and height of your enclosure--as it begins to crack and crumble--you are struck by the raw emotion of hopefulness.
Like fresh air or rain or sunlight striking you, newly revealed from behind your defenses, it reminds you by its very essence of its goodness and cleanses you of the stale feeling of confinement.
The joy of simply being included in the national identity is surprising, when you had long written it off as a mantle co-opted for exclusion, like the garb of ideological identity.
Oh it does feel good to be able to feel pride in your nation again.
It does feel good to be hopeful again.
I am of the US.