“When Last did you Major in Unafraid?”

I don’t usually write these kinds of things on my blog, but PointlessPurpleBubbles wrote on the topic recently and it inspired me. It helped a little because I think I managed to express things I haven’t been able to understand myself.

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The girl studies til two, goes to bed, wakes up for her test. She stands in front of the mirror, studies the bags under her eyes, the little extra on her hips. Sighing, she pulls on the nearest jeans and shirt lying carelessly on the floor.

She writes the test she studied for – with more effort than usual, but still not enough. She finishes early and doesn’t know if it is a good or a bad thing.

Back in her room she turns her speakers to full volume and attacks the room with a vengeance. If the room is clean she might not feel less like an animal rotting in its own filth. The music reverberates through her chest, and she almost bops to the beat. Almost. Perhaps if there was more bass. Or if she were more confident.

The girl does what is expected of her, maybe more, but when she looks in the mirror again she almost looks right through herself. Is this what they see? She wonders.

She wonders if she does what she does out of confidence, or out of fear. Is being the outsider a sign of bravery or rebelliousness or is it a secret corner of cowardice?

Do speaking in front of large audiences and arguing with professors and working with violent patients constitute bravery, or simply a blind acquiescence to that which is expected of you?

Perhaps being unafraid has less to do with overcoming fear and more with overcoming oneself.

The girl is not a coward… but she is certainly not unafraid.