It’s the 1st, and April looms over me like the playground bully waiting to see if I’ll stand up for myself. For years, I’ve been pushed around by Life; I’ve allowed Circumstances to beat me into quiet, trembling submission.
April looms, her sweat dripping onto my up-turned face. Who am I to stand up to her? The list of her playground-casualties grows longer every day. The dirt on my face turns into a muddy drip at the bottom of my chin as silent tears coagulate.
April looms. April taunts. April pulls my hair for crying. I look into her cold gray eyes and I am afraid.
I am so afraid. I am afraid of failure. I am afraid of being beaten. I am afraid of the shameful walk back home.
It’s the first, and April looms.
But the joke’s on her–I am no fool. I am capable. I am resilient. I am courageous in spite of my fear.
April looms, and I stand up. Eye-to-eye, nose-to-nose, chest-to-chest. Unblinking, I stare her down, my heart pounding in my ears. With terrified excitement, I push April back.
I will fight, and I will win.