Brave

It’s that feeling of doing something that scares the shit out of you and saying “fuck it”. It’s when your mom tells you to wash the dishes and you end up breaking a whole bunch of them, and you own up to it instead of blaming it on the dog. It’s when you can go to sleep without worrying about the monsters under your bed.

Brave. But I concur with people throughout history who argue that bravery isn’t something you get or develop, it’s simply the absence of fear. Being brave is not a choice we make. It’s simply an option we take when every other one is simply unacceptable.

That’s exactly how I feel right now – brave.

In one of my major classes, we were required by our professor to create a handwritten letter. This was to be addressed to any individual in our lives, be it family or friend, with the goal of improving our interpersonal relationship with them.

We were given a good two weeks before the deadline, but for some reason, I remained undecided. There were two people I wanted to write to: my parents, or my crush. Let’s call him Gecko. Gecko’s a boy, and I’m a boy too.

So after giving myself a headache and realizing the deadline was less than 12 hours away, I scribbled away on a yellow pad, pouring my heart out and exposing myself – the real me – to a guy who I wasn’t that close too.

I didn’t have the opportunity to give him the letter in private earlier, so I just typed it out online and linked it to him privately on Facebook. In other news, I may never open my Facebook account again. 

Seriously though, the anxiety is killing me. Will he get mad and offended, subsequently staying away from me? Or will he be okay with it and everything will be fine. I am strongly hoping for the latter.

Cheers.

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