be careful what you wish for

I wish I were brave. I used to tell people I was, used to say it was my best quality. Whenever people asked me what it was I wanted out of life, I had one answer. I'd say I wanted to accumulate as much experience as possible. Friends would tell me I was fire, that I was a firework in a thousand colours, a lover whispered that I was a storm, and the maiden on Raglan road. I lived life too fast, wanted it all, wanted it right then and there.

I am not brave, and none of it is true anymore. I am not a creature made of clay, but a simple woman. I don't want every adrenaline rush the world has to offer. I don't want to live without knowing what might happen by the end of the week. I don't want to be fierce or courageous or valiant or strong. I want to be quiet. I want the silence one can only hear in the dead of night. I want to know the comforts of an invariable, reliable path. Breakfast at the same time every morning, a designated reading time before bed.

I'm not brave, don't want to be. To be brave, to know what it feels like to choose matter over mind and mind over matter. You have to know fear. I want nothing more to do with fear. I yearn for simplicity, for no-question affection, for certainty.

I don't want anything but peace.