This morning I found out that I’m not tough.
“I’m not tough?!” I shouted internally.  “I’m fucking tough.  I’M FUCKING TOUGH!”

You best believe I’m fucking tough.  I stood up and took an opportunity that was well and far outside of my comfort zone.  I tried for something new and aimed high.  I answered that goddamned door and threw my entire self at the hallway’s occupant, barely acknowledging that I might need a raincoat.

I went ALL THE FUCK IN and refused to be waylaid, pushing pushING PUSHING until it hurt.  Until I hurt.  Until I BROKE.


Say that again, I dare you.  To my face this time, after you’ve taken a moment of pause inside my headspace.  After you’ve pushed as hard as I have only to come up on setback after setback.  Tell me again how I’m not tough enough to do this thing that I HAVE BEEN DOING, all the while hearing secondhand that I don’t fit your image of motherfucking FORTITUDE.

I’m tough, you fucking slack wit.  You gossip.  You harpy.  I am tough as nails and I am coming for your misconceptions.  I will be stronger in my broken places and I will push until you are forced to eat your words, brittle in your mouth.  I will be better than better still and you will not touch the strength I build.