Is it alright to say I might

I detail all that I’m currently doing and all that I plan to do. I describe, using a vast array of superlatives, all that I hope my future will hold.

He listens, intently, asking questions during the pauses, smiling when I smile.

He says my family must be proud.

They are, I say, blushing a little. My mother tells everyone I’m going to be the first female president.

I pause, thinking that I suddenly sound like an egomaniac.

I’m not that great, I add. Not at all in fact. Incredibly flawed, who knows if I’ll ever do anything worth anything.

He scoffs, waves his hand at me. What are you talking about? You are great. I can’t imagine you not doing something great. Why talk yourself down?

Well, you know, it’s a little scary being up on a ledge. With everything in front of you, looking to leap out. Confidence is scary. It brings you further out on that ledge.

He grins again.

I’m just glad I’ll get to say I knew you when.

I guess the ledge isn’t always so scary.