It’s funny to me, but not to most, and certainly not when I hear it or repeat it to myself, but it’s still a funny idea. Courage. I kind of pride myself on mine; taking stock of all the moments I stood up for myself when it wasn’t easy. It’s funny to me that the times when it ought to have been really easy, when it wasn’t even a question, it was suddenly, and strangely the hardest.
Tonight, I wasn’t courageous. I wasn’t daring. I was sheepish, a Cosmo lemming. I talked to you about grabbing what’s in front of you when it’s your chance. “So much in life is timing,” I said, “and really, people like to say if it’s meant to be, but please, if it’s really meant to be, you make it happen.” I said it like I meant it, and I still do. I really do. But in the rain, tonight, beneath your umbrella, I didn’t want to let you go, let the moment pass us by, but I did. I let it slip by, not because I didn’t want it. I was scared you’d let go, yawn, tell me you had a long day. And I’d have to walk away, dejected. I’m the girl; that’s not my job. But somehow, I worry it is now. I worry you think you’ve done your part. Now, it’s up to me. And I suck. I’m so mad at myself for not following my instinct, for not grabbing you and pulling you home with me. Instead, I came home alone, unsure of the space that is growing between us. I’m worried I’m losing you, and we’re not even at the point where there’s anything to lose. But that’s another lie. I’d somehow always know what I lost, and it wouldn’t be funny.