confession

The trait which you call courage is in fact nothing of the sort.

It is rather my own realization, inevitable if precocious, that I find myself completely unable to continue onward when I stray from this certain path, a path which has always called me clearly even while it remains inscribed somewhere so deep that the notion of ever truly and completely grasping it remains laughable. Am I scared? Certainly! Really living is scary. But really not living is even more so, and I am unable to exist in that formless space between these two. I am not courageous. I am simply too weak to resist that which speaks to my soul.