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.
I’m not TOUGH ENOUGH?
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.