Trying to be Tough

I don’t know when I stopped being tough.  When I was younger I’m sure I was fearless and brave and unafraid of life, people, consequences.  I would stay up all night, speak to strangers, take risks, laugh, shout, scream, fight if I had to, and often if I didn’t, live impulsively and party, party, party.  At some point along the way I got really, really scared of everything and tried to hide myself away from the world.  Instead of shouting and screaming into the wind I whispered into a pillow.  For a long time I thought that this was a preferable choice and was part of ‘growing up.’  I have recently realised that this is unbearably boring and have been attempting, with varying success, to do something about it.


In reality the fearlessness that I see when I look back at that old version of myself is a trick of the light and is not fearlessness at all but recklessness that had far more to do with dutch courage than actual bravery.  Nowadays I have nothing to hide behind and although it makes me feel vulnerable and exposed, it is also exciting in the way that only scary things can be.


Thanks for reading, I’m now blogging over at come and join me!


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