The reasons why I am no longer afraid

I am no longer shivering from the slight cold breeze, nor shrinking away in discomfort that I have wasted time. No, in fact I look to my right and then to my left, smiling. I am no longer taken away from my wills to survive such as a manipulative tug of the hand to come this way, and not that way. I have shaken my hands up and down, tightening and then not. I have climbed up steep stairs, rotating escalators and arrived here. I am no longer afraid that I am not brave enough. For I have cried; heaps into the laps of my mother, wiped tears in front of my piano teacher and stumbled my words in front of acquaintances. I am not weak. I am not the pressure point so firmly deepened into my back where crumbling is a weakness.
No.
The reason I decided that it was worth it…that I was worth it was because, well…
I am force. Deliberate and cautious. I arise as the world. Carefully stroking my sword in its worn sheath, I steady myself for combat. The clanking of swift gestures, I purse my lips as if to say “I am not giving up”.
I have swallowed butterflies and savored their thin wings on the roof of my mouth. I am stark naked attesting to myself this is the body that harbors my soul. For I am Rousseau recollecting that I am honest…honest enough. I am Maya Angelou rubbing the thighs that allow me to stand upright. I am brave enough. I am my bad posture and grammatical mistakes. I am the goodness of my intentions, and the bending backwards to shield another from the hailstorm.
I am no longer afraid of the thick, humid air that plagues the Spring and Summer upstate. I await it’s warmth clutching to my face.
I am brave and honest enough, at this very moment. I am what I am.
Brave.

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