The Undaunted Self

There was a part of me that was still too fragile.

Still too broken.

Still too tender and sore and scarred from everything 

That it had seen.

From everything that it had been through.

From everything that it wanted and lost.

From everything that it held dear and had to let go of.

From every betrayal.

From every let down.

From every broken promise.

From falling apart ever so often.

Ever so much.

Somehow it was still alive.

Still breathing feebly.

Like the last ember covered under piles of ash.

After a forest fire.

That raged too often.

That was doused a little too late.

Every single time.

It was still hurting.

And in all it's stubbornness, in all it's naivete didn't want to die.

Not yet, at least.

And all I knew was that I had to protect it.

No matter what.

Even if it killed me.

Even if I ended up losing everything.

Even if it was a lost battle, even before it began.

Even if... I knew that I may never succeed.

I had to take that chance.

Just like I did everytime.

Hoping that I'd succeed.

Praying that I won't fail.

Not knowing what happens next.

And still trying.

Even if I'd never know whether I will or won't ever succeed.

Even if at the end of it all, all I'd be left with were... tears.

For inspite of everything, I was just not the kind of person who would give up without trying.

Without fighting.

Who would not accept defeat till I was actually defeated.

And then I would fight some more.

Even if all I felt was weak.

Even if all I felt was... way too weak.