“I’m not ready.”

“Why not?”


She paused; took a deep breath that filled up her lungs before exhaling softly.

“Because… I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m afraid of starting again; of leaving this place that I’ve called home for so many years and going to somewhere that seems so unfamiliar now. I’ve made so many memories here. What if I’m a stranger to them when I go back home?

I’m afraid of being lonely; of not finding people who will accept me for who I am. Of finding people who take me for face value; will they even try to look deeper? To see what’s in my head and my heart?

Most of all? I’m afraid of becoming someone that I won’t like in the future; I’m afraid of changing. I’m afraid of turning into someone that I wouldn’t recognize; that you wouldn’t recognize. I’m afraid of losing myself in a place where everyone’s always busy and in a hurry. I’m afraid of forgetting this place and the me that loved this place. ”

“But change is inevitable.”

She shook her head, laughed and shrugged a bit; flustered.

“I know. It’s a bit silly.”

“It’s not silly. You’re being brave.”

She raised a brow in disbelief.

“Haven’t you been listening? I’m not brave at all; I’m terrified.”

“Bravery isn’t about not being afraid. It’s about being so afraid, you shake in your boots but are still able to take that one step forward. It’s continuing on that long and narrow road, regardless of all of your fear.

You’re brave.

Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”



She looked at me as if I was crazy.
And then she smiled.