Living.

Today I woke up with an itch in my soul to explore.
I planned far off adventures.
I thought about calling you and asking you to go with me.
I looked at maps, and photos and dreamt of the wonders that are in my own backyard.

Instead, I watched TV.
Drank coffee.
Read.
Cleaned.
Procrastinated.

And that's when it hit me.
I am far more scared of living than I am of dying. 

Whenever I get the urge in my soul to run to something.
A person.
A place.
A dream.
I have a remarkable tendency to talk myself out of it.
I have always been much better at running away.

When I wake up tomorrow.
And you are the first thing on my mind.
I am going to face the fear of life.
I am going to face my fear of human connection.
And I am going to say good morning.
And it will be.

Some day, when I finally have this whole "living" thing figured out.
I hope I look back at these words and laugh.

Because then I will know the only thing I have to be afraid of
Is myself.