Are we ever ready?

When I was younger, I’ve always thought that I am invincible, that no one and nothing can ever hurt me and if ever I am so foolish enough to put myself in a painful situation, I could always take it in stride, shrug my shoulders and let go. I never really stopped to ask my self if I was ready for these things. I wanted to be part of so much life that I would go crashing through it, unaware that the heart could harden with time and the soul has the ability to retreat behind a wall.

Now I can’t remember when, or even why, did I ever stop running through life and started to count my steps and calculate my risks.

But when do you get ready, really?

Is it when you decide to run towards the cliff, or is it the moment you lift your feet off to fly?

Is it when you wake up from sleep or is it the moment you open your eyes?

Is it when you felt the warmth or is it when you can’t bear the heat when scorched?

Is it in goodbyes, or is it in the void after parting?

Is it in the words or in the expression of it?

Are we ever ready, really?