Watching my friend P. makes me wonder. So that is what was expected of me. That level of commitment, despite everything else. That ability to believe, to look ahead, to make plans, to make concessions. To give in when needed, instead of giving out when possible. To be, in both meanings of the verb. To cast away the doubts and the fears and deliver myself into the unknown. To forfeit the acessory, the non-important, and hold on to what really matters. To feel. Above everything else, to feel. I could, of course, rationalize everything - what sapped my strenght, what undermined my will, what eroded and ultimately destroyed my emotions and feelings. It would even be most likely true, but not the whole truth. For even if I rationalize everything one fact remains that cannot be spinned by any way: I was never that brave, never as brave as my friend P. is. I never had such a courage. Courage is often reckless, I know. Courage can lead us astray so easily. But it also goes a long way. And in the end, perhaps the distance we have walked matters more than whatever we were pursuing.