If I were brave enough I would write every single thing down and publish it and shout it out to the world. If I were brave enough I would be more vulnerable. I would wear a tutu to the ballet. If I were brave enough I would tell him how I feel. I would be something else like a trapeze artist, high wire walker, or a hula hoop star. If I were brave enough my guts would pour out fantastic prose about how sad I am that Kimberly died. I’d go over and talk with Kimberly’s widower and let him cry instead of me. If I were brave enough I would tell her to F off. I’d be unabashed and able to say anything that I want. I’d be less wound up and more relaxed. I’d be less whiny about white girl problems. If I were brave enough I’d go over to the public school and read to more than 2 kids. I’d stay later to help, I’d be engaged. If I were brave enough, I’d back out of some of my extracurricular activities and write. Be accountable. I would be able to say no to kooky cat non-profits. I’d give myself a break as I give my girlfriends a break — not judging what they accomplish or not. I’d be unapologetic and write ugly and read it anyhow. I’d dance with strangers and wear a silly eye mask on the plane. I’d tell my truth.
If I were brave enough, I’d stand up on a platform and tell everyone that I have something to say. If I were brave enough I would tell my daughters what is what. If I were brave enough I would visit my…
