I'm sitting here gazing out into a world of possibility and purpose and I chide myself for being a coward sometimes. I get mad at myself for doubting as much as I do, for hesitating and finding excuses. I look back and remember when I was a fearless dreamer, blatant in my belief, obnoxious in my certainty.... And I wonder.... Where did she go? Where did that girl go? Was she killed off by cynicism? Knocked down by reality.... Captured by adulthood? Defeated by life?... I shake my head, for it is better than hanging it in shame. I steady myself for the mourning of my past self.... And I think... Am I but a shell of my former self? Void of truth and inspiration? Am I so empty a vessel that my noise is nothing but a deafening yet unnoticeable silence?... These are my fears that nip at my confidence, that drown my rising strength. These are the fears I hold on to, to feed my pity party and excuse myself from wanting... From dreaming... From doing. These are the f