choice

Some time ago I had a talk with someone I knew about choices in life, what to make of it, actually making a choice and taking the courage to decide..

It scared me to think that I couldn't do any of these things. I would readily sit back and see the world pass me by, knowing that I was safe but unadventurous, preferring to stay in the comfort of familiarity and the definite.

I'm just glad to know this someone was able to do these things, hesitating though the person may be, but the most important thing was that this person actually went out there, made a choice and always seemed like it was the correct choice made. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this person doesn't make wrong choices; this person will surely do that at some point of time, but the main point that got across to me was that this person had faith in the choices made. That is something I cannot readily admit I can do. I'm afraid to step out, for fear of falling, falling, falling... inevitably vulnerable. A coward.

But within that cowardice lies a courage to act, but only to protect oneself if not anything else. I have never had to draw on it, and strangely some part of me never hopes to even though another part may be dying to.

I often wonder myself if that conversation had a hidden meaning, but I guess I shouldn't be thinking too much.