'Mesmeré' - Poetry of 2022 And 23

Therefore I am

A friend asked me once if I was ready. It was a mundane question related to a not-so-mundane topic. It took a lot of thought to be honest with them at that moment. 
It's the sort of question that you feel inclined to say yes to immediately. It's expected of you after all. It's rhetorical.
And I had always been sure of myself. I had always survived, endured, seen the sunrise and seen the sunset.
I have fought my fights and won my wars. Of course, I should be ready.
But naturally, like a prankster hiding in the dark life would throw me a curveball every now and then. Or an overly complicated riddle, the answer is never as transparent as you'd like it.
That week, that month and the years superseding the day on which I was asked this question had been, in my modest opinion, relatively simple. But upon reflection, it never was. And I was never, ever 'ready'.

It took a lot of courage to be honest with my friend at that moment.
'No, I'm not. I don't think I ever will be.' The realisation dawned on me as soon as the words left my mouth, swept up in the wind, and carried into the aether; the truth.
She looked at me and smiled sadly, watching as I balanced on what I'd thought was a steady surface.
'That's called living.' She responded. And I almost slipped.

You are never ready, not even when you're more than one hundred percent certain in yourself, but you are still alive. 
More than that, you are living.
I suppose in hindsight, it was not such a mundane question after all. All it took was a little honesty.