personal blog: simon

brave to face your fears. be brave to face your past. I want to punch Jacob for saying it, but I left him stranded outside the building and I don’t care. let him hurt. I want him to hurt because I’m hurting.

I’m an awful person.

‘we can only be brave if we face it.’ what nonsense. Jacob should know better.

bravery is just a poor man’s excuse for a loss. brave to go into a battle, the battle to keep my head above the water so I don’t drown. the insistence of my father’s instruction how to kick my feet and let my body relax, but I sank to the bottom. if it wasn’t for my brother I would have drowned. but, the bravery was measured for being in the water, for making an effort, although it almost killed me.

brave to fight and get my entrance star and be a member of the boy’s club.

brave to take every bullet of my sister’s screaming. every insult. every curse… and manage to stand up tall, dust the verbal wounds off, and live.

brave as my brother’s bloody knuckles, taking a hit from one of the boys, pushing me away from a fight. a fight I didn’t deserve.

brave to sleep with a guy and leave him as I left empty and self-loathing.

brave to break Kevin’s heart.

brave to buy my mother flowers.

brave to face the darkness and not crumble into pieces of panic.

brave to recall my father’s cigarette breath and his hands embracing my shoulders.

brave to keep ‘our secret’ as my father whispered before turning for the night.

brave to stay silent and not whimper a sound.

be brave.

how do I measure it? how do I define it?

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© simon whittle — second act