Last night I was accused of being brave. Specifically, I was accused of being brave when I write my drivel.

I didn't think it was a particularly fair or accurate accusation but because I am, at my core and fuck anyone who says otherwise, a nice guy, I didn't argue with it very much. And I didn't laugh hysterically until my accuser had left.

See, to me bravery is doing something in spite of fear.

And that's definitely not what I'm doing here, when I write my drivel. Not at all.

What I'm doing here, is I'm writing because of desperation. I'm writing because of stupidity and selfishness. I'm writing for an awful lot of reasons, but bravery isn't one of those reasons. It's not even close.

Mostly, I think, I'm writing not in spite of my fears, but because of them. Because I'm afraid of every other outlet for these words and these feelings. I write of these things because I'm afraid to speak them aloud, and because I'm also afraid of exploding if I don't give them some outlet.

So please, don't think of me as brave. I don't deserve it. These things that I write, they are a coward's words.