There really is a fine line between being a coward, and being courageous.
Coward. I've acknowledge that fact for some time now and I can safely, but not proudly admit that I am indeed a big pussy. But the real question is, what am I really scared of? Swarm of thoughts rushed through my head. I am afraid of the dark, and why? Because of unknown entities that might be lurking there, the ones I cannot see. And so what then? Could it kill me? No. Well does that apply to everything one experiences? If so then, death is the only thing that I should be afraid of. But it doesn't work out that way. I fear of heartaches. Any normal person would be too but then in the end you know that it wouldn't kill you, right? Yeah in that context of death as someone whose heart stopped beating then no, of course not. But the pain it can cause, it can kill you inside. So now what. What am I really afraid of. Pain, heartaches, disappointments, expectations, to name a few. In general I am afraid of life. Of reality. Of the fact that life is not made plainly of sugar but it has its own bunch of lemons too, and I have to accept that.
Courage on the other hand is accepting defeat, and then standing up again. It is fighting for what you believe in. In facing the truth. In all of its forms, courage is when one steps out of his comfort zone and bravely embraces the unknown.
But now tell me this. Am I a coward because I ran away from knowing the truth, or am I brave that I have accepted this weakness, that I still have the guts to fight for it without knowing that truth, that I have presented my whole vulnerability on a silver platter, ready to be served. That I am willing, no matter how scared I am, to blindly fight for something I will never be certain of.
I am scared as shit, but i'm still here. So what does that make me?