And even when I'm scared I've got to try to fly

I'm not ready. I really don't believe in my heart that I am. I probably never have been, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. I feel like such a failure because I say I can't. But I can't. I honestly don't think I can at this point. I tried to make myself feel like I could, but I'm fooling myself. All I'd be doing is running again. Running away from my problems, but they'll only follow me wherever I go. They did twice before. And they will again. That's why I feel like such a failure. God, but it feels like a huge relief to just finally admit it. Is it my final decision? No, not totally. Part of me doesn't want to decide yet. Or at least, decide this. But just realizing that it may not be what I want to do, it lifts this gigantic weight off of my shoulders that I've been feeling for the past couple of weeks now. And it's ok if I'm not ready at this point. No one says I have to go. I thought that I did, but if it's causing me as much anxiety and stress as it has, then maybe it's not right. If it was, it shouldn't be so hard, and I wouldn't be feeling so torn. I wouldn't be staying for anyone, just like I wouldn't be leaving for anyone. It's my decision, it's about me. What I want. And I think I finally figured it out.