To my Bestfriend, Courage

I am courageous most often, and I am scared as hell too. I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing.  I plan, and I think, and I plan again. If these same skills didn’t pay my bills, I’d really consider getting rid of them. I tend to make good decisions. Tend. I, however, am not so good at going with the flow. At the beginning of any conquest, I assess the pros and cons, probability of failure, and what that impact will be. Did I say, I have no clue what I’m doing? I know what I’m good at. I know what I’m not. I don’t know what I could be good at, but that’s what I’m trying to figure out.

I do not know everything, but I know too much. I know how to be good to people, and I know how to stop. I know how to love people, and I never stop. I think too much, must often about things that are not mine to think on. I am here again at 25.5; trying to find a happy medium. The balance of scales.

I know courage, we’re best friends. Though, somewhere between there and here, I forgot him. I didn’t lose him, I just got lost. With everything that was going on, and life’s fast changes, I forgot courage. Everything is always going to change. That’s how it works, life. Courage, is what got me here, and courage is what will get me to the next point. Fear and courage can not rest pleasantly in the same home. They can not coexist. Things are scary, but are often not as big as we make them.

I have a pretty good idea about who I am, and what I don’t like. Actually, I know all too well, what I don’t like. It is the process of figuring out what I do like that seems to be the challenge. Complicated, I am, but not overly. Trial and error, falling and getting back up (literally). Courage. I saw a quote the other day that read, “Be patient with yourself, you are discovering parts of yourself that you’ve never met.” Or something like that.

I had hoped that things would be different, I dreamt of simpler days, of things just making sense, and that being ok. Not yet, not so simple, it is not time for that. The fascinating thing about hope, is that you don’t ever have to let it go. Hope. Simple, no, not yet. Now is the time to be complicated, but not the time to be careless.

Careless, no. Not me. I can’t, somewhere between hope, haughtiness and fear of failure, I can not be careless. I mean a lot to myself, and so they’ve said, I mean a lot to other people. For this reason, I care. I ask ‘How are you?,’ and I say, ‘please and thank you.’ No one owes you anything, you know? But it is ok to care.

This is a love note, a quirky, all over the place, “I love you.” To my best friend, Courage. I met you once, and then I met you again and again, and again. I forgot you at times, but I never left. I’ve been hiding from you. Well, maybe not hiding, but staying busy with other things that you don’t like, worry, and doubt. It’s just a season, I am growing, I do not always know in my heart what I know in my mind. Everything that happens to me, I feel one hundred fold. Everything that I happen to, also feels me, one hundred fold. It is not you, courage, it is me. I am not sorry that I got lost. I’m not sorry that I lost you. I am ecstatic that you have found me again. To my best friend, courage.

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