They say, that it takes 20 seconds of intense courage and bravery, and something amazing will happen.
I took 9 months. With external help.
Was it amazing? I don’t know. Was it relieving? Probably. Did anything change? Probably not. Do I regret it? No.
In fact, I have never been as relieved and at ease with myself. All these ambiguity and awkward tension, all the suspicion and misunderstandings have significantly subsided, at least for me. My knees have never felt so weak, palms sweatier than they have ever been sweaty, and I was almost certain I was going to pass out when I heard your footsteps inching closer and closer. I could barely breathe. Get your shit together.
I probably would have never done this, but I probably should have done it a long time ago. I probably should have taken the chance to look into your eyes and to just tell you the honest truth, I probably should never have turned back to watch you leave and your figure disappear into afar. Probably.
5 years ago, I would’ve been so proud of myself today. But I am not brave, I am not courageous, I am merely a complete mess of fear and anxiety propelled by adrenaline and peer support. I am so tired, so emotionally and physically exhausted – but I finally managed to face my demons.
Nothing much has changed, though. At least, to me.
A fever has come to visit me shortly after, very possibly as though telling me “Congrats dickhead, you finally did it.”
Yes, I finally did it.
; 