”What does not kill you, will only make you stronger, braver, a better person.”

But sometimes I think the art of being brave is to not recollect from the past, not to yearn for the past to change your future, it is about wandering into the present with a blank canvas.

However, having said that, I wish I had recorded the thoughts and words I didn’t say but wanted to. Played them back to myself, made them my phone’s ringtone, familiarized myself with them not only until they were comfortable in my mind but until they were comfortable in my mouth so if the time ever arises for when they were needed, they roll off like a wave in the ocean.

I am just a series of mummers from the mouth. The maybes and the I'll do it laters. The they-did-not-mean-it.The half human who feels anxious about asking the bus driver for a ticket.

My brain rolls over the memory of a boy in my art class calling me fat. If I remember correctly, he actually called me a whale.

 I replay this situation a thousand times but instead of sulking, I engulf the boy like he is Pinocchio. Or maybe I jump on the desk - like in Dead Poet’s Society - and spew out a inspirational monologue which informs my fellow class mates that worth is not assigned to the size of your pants. Your mouth doesn’t just taste food, it tastes languages and love. So speak already.

Your body is a harvester for love and laughter and smiles; a microcosm of wisdom and intelligence and compassion. Also, Whales are kind of badass, so don’t worry if you look like one.

Or maybe, maybe I am super intimidating and I dropkick the boy, right in the groin. Then I scream, ”THERE ARE GOVERNMENT SECRETS HIDDEN BETWEEN THE ROLLS IN MY STOMACH, A CLAP OF MY THIGHS CONJURES ENOUGH THUNDER TO TAKE OUT THE WHOLE OF LONDON, YOU DO NOT WANT TO MESS WITH ME BITCH.”

It is easier to be brave with your eye’s closed. It is easier to imagine yourself saying things.