I’m slowly learning that indifference is a disease. It’s poison. It’s a slow motion death to your soul and your heart.

I’m slowly learning that indifference is the reason why you didn’t try harder for that job or that raise or the reason why you watched the love of your life get married to someone else or the reason why your life is falling apart.

I’m slowly learning that indifference may make you look cool and calm but it doesn’t make you feel alive.

It doesn’t infuse color into your world. It doesn’t make you want to jump out of bed and seize the hell out of the day. It doesn’t make your heart skip ten beats and it doesn’t make you feel all the divine emotions you could be feeling and all the wonderful highs you could be experiencing.

I’m slowly learning that indifference is not the same as strength. Strength is trying and failing. Strength is loving harder every time you get broken. Strength is going after whatever it is that you want, whatever it is that you’re scared of, whatever it is that you think you don’t deserve. Strength is challenging the obstacles and the hardships instead of waiting for a sign. Strength is being soft and vulnerable when everyone around you expects you to be cold and indifferent. Strength is hurting over the loss of someone you love instead of pretending that you’re fine. Strength is telling someone how you feel instead of pretending that you don’t care.

I’m slowly learning that indifference can bring you short-term happiness but it will also bring you long-term misery.

When you look back on all the chances you didn’t take and all the words you didn’t say. When you look back on the people you let go and the people who had no idea that they meant the world to you. When you look back on the life you could have lived if you had just cared a little more or had the courage to be a little more braver. The life you could have lived if you had just tried a little harder for what your heart desires instead of letting your pride lie to you and tell you that indifference is the only way to forget and the only way not to mourn the loss of something you never had.

I’m slowly learning that it’s time to just be the person who loves more and cares deeply and tries harder.

I’m slowly learning that it’s time to be the person who asks for things and gets rejected and gets back up again with the same passion, zest and fervor. I’m slowly learning that it’s time to take that leap of faith even if it means getting trampled on instead of playing it safe as you watch from the sidelines everything you want slipping through your fingers.

Rania Naim is a poet and author of the new book All The Words I Should Have Said, available here.