The First Step

I keep waiting, wondering when I will outgrow my .. awkward stage. I wonder when the graceful woman will take over, the women who is confident and sure, the one who I’d always hoped lurked within my skin.

With so many years behind me of not being assertive, with hiding beneath the guise of plain sight, I find it hard to change, to grow, to evolve into the next phase of my life. I’m torn. Do I jump off the cliff and plunge head first into unfamiliar territory, or walk the path of safety, as I have always done, learning a little at a time. Its times like this I curse the fact that I was not taught and trained as others, instead, while women learned to seduce with only a walk, I was reading cards for the kennel guards.

I do not wish to revisit my past, or the collar around my neck. Even though no part of my slavery was harsh, the thought of steel laced about my throat convulses my emotions and strangles my common sense. It terrorizes me more than the thought of death, and given a choice between such, I can’t honestly say that I would choose life on a leash.. over a matter of breathing.

I’m standing as I write this, book in hand, sitting still far too uncomfortable, and staring at torn dark lace on the floor near my sleeping couch. Something is.. off, wrong, missing, and I am dangerously close to peeling back the petals of what I have always known as reason. But within my reason lays malignant seeds of doubt and I finds myself exactly back where I have started.

I have come to a crossroads where I must choose a path, knowing that I can’t stand in its center limbo forever.

I suppose, there is no better time to soar, than now. I only hope the glue of my wings doesn’t melt beneath the warm rays of lar torvis.

Just need to be sure of that first step..