Trembling Days

"For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse.
So collapse.
Crumble.
This is not your destruction.
This is your birth."

- n.t.

There are too many trembling days,

Days when she can't keep calm for trying and her heart is bullet speed and thunder loud.

There are too few static days.

The days that she's used to. The days that make more sense. Nothing unexpected. Nothing terribly good, nothing too positively terrible.

What is she to do with herself on the trembling days? She staggers there and back again, not sure where to stand or what to do with her feet. With her hands. With her eyes.

Her ears are useless; deaf to anything but her own thundering pulse. Her tongue is too twisted to let her speak. Any illusion of grace falls short and she staggers; she resigns herself to a standstill. Is that not the safest way?

Her heart doesn't approve of the safest way. What is life without a taste of adventure, and the small promise of risk?

There came a day when she had to decide

To stop wishing for confidence and to take it upon herself to laugh confidently. To smile with surety. To take a few graceless steps and look back at them without regret. Or better yet, to not look back at all.

At least for a while.

She has come farther than she has ever been. She has talked more than she ever thought she had the words for. And she has smiled more in a day than she used to in a month. Because she forgot to look back.

She doesn't remember how long its been since before she stepped ahead. She stepped out of the standstill and the fear of graceless movements is all but forgotten.

The trembling days do not tremble with uncertainty

But with excitement.

The static days are reduced now, to nothing but moments;

Moments in a day that she hardly recalls

Because they are moments so void of adventure.

She smiles. Her heart flutters a little - trembles, with the day.