Once, when fear was as it were a swoon mumble that might be effectively ignored, I would have moved forward without faltering. But presently that I'm standing here, my feet feel like they're stuck to the soil, and my heart is beating against my ribs like a feathered creature in a cage that's attempting to get out. Indeed in spite of the fact that I have the words on the tip of my tongue, my mouth won't move.
I'm not beyond any doubt when it happened, when my inward fire went out and my question started to overwhelm my confidence. Maybe it was the dismissals, the disappointments, and the times when I hopped and fell difficult. Continuously, bravery slowly vanished, clearing out fair reluctance and question.
I remember past encounters in an endeavor to find the self that already bounded forward without turning around. Was I bolder at that point, or was I careless? Fair sufficient quality to require one walk, one breath, one risk—I wish I might borrow indeed a small parcel of that quality right presently.
In any case, boldness covers up and holds up to be found once more instead of basically vanishing. Maybe it's still there, covered up underneath layers of fear, fair holding up to surface. Maybe all I have to do is move, indeed in case my voice trembles and my legs shake. Since imagining that I never misplaced it within the to begin with put is the as it were way to recapture my boldness.
and the fragile balance between courage and fear, and the thin line that separates them...
Exactly!