Courage; my dark friend.

I’ve spent a lot of time in my life, believing that I was defective in some way. Being that I’ve had medical problems since birth, that thought was kind of founded, although when I was a child I used to think that it made me unfit or unworthy to maintain friendships with people, or share my opinion about something that I knew inside and out.

If anything in my life screwed up, I used to use it as justification for the belief that I really wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be alive, so the world didn’t bother to make any dreams for me to dream.
If things were going OK, I used to get this nagging feeling; the one that comes just before You get the result of a school test that you know you’ve cheated in.

There was a little part of me always added a ‘But’ to all of my accomplishments. The ‘but’ that comes after always takes whats you’ve done down a notch, and makes it not so worthy of being there in the first place, so you don’t notice it anymore.

That ‘but’ took away something from me. It took away my serial-box cut-out named Courage. Courage was a black cat, or black dog, depending on what I felt like that day. I’ve even seen it as a tall black horse, trotting beside me.
I lost that feeling of accomplishment, and My Courage. Courage faded into the ether, the way a smell blows away with the wind.

My Courage walked back into my life a while ago, looking as gleaming and shiny as the day it left me.

The word ‘but’, is just a word. Its a bunch of letters thrown together to create a sound that we reference as: something not quite as meaningful as something else.

Everything is meaningful, in its own right:

Your feet are meaningful because they carry you around with little complaint;
Your mug of tea sitting beside you is meaningful, because it warms your hands and tastes ever-so good;
Your keyboard is meaningful, because otherwise no one would read what you did not type;
Your relationships are meaningful because they all taught you something about yourself;

Your Courage is meaningful, because without it You wouldn’t have the guts to say Sorry for anything that you may have done, or walk away when You’re not expected to.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s