I thought that I was brave until he came along. I was shedding my past life in layers. I was rebelling against every idea I had previously held about how I should live.
But underneath my tough exterior, or what felt tough at times, I was still cycling through fears. I didn't know how to communicate. I didn't know how to be with someone. I was still learning how to be with myself.
When he came along I still felt like a mess. A beautiful mess, but a mess nonetheless, and he seemed perfect. I wanted to push him away because I didn't feel good enough. Because I had once tried so hard to create a life with someone and it blew up in my face.
But he is brave. He made himself vulnerable. He expressed himself, and when I finally choked out how I felt, he listened. Since then it's been one hell of a romantic adventure, with my feet on the ground and my heart in place. I like where this is going.
I am healing. I am learning what it really is to be brave. I am learning to choose love.