I have come to the conclusion, after much deliberation, that I may in fact be a chicken-shit coward. I apologize for the language but it is the only way I can get through my head and make it stick. I came to this conclusion because I have recently fallen for someone. I won’t say any names because I have not confessed my feelings for this said person; this is why I am a coward. I may be sitting in the same room as this person and with others, deeply entrenched in my own mind with what bothering me, and when asked about why I am not contributing to the conversation or the company I back out and say nothing is wrong when something is wrong. I have reasoned to myself that I do this because it is generally a problem that they cannot help me with; that they do not really want to be troubled by the pains in my head.

It has been also brought to my attention by this person, and several of my friends, that I may have developed a little self-loathing. Perhaps it is because of my cowardice that I have developed this self-loathing, but I honestly do not see the self-loathing in me. But regardless I am a coward because I may have only one or two more chances to spill out my heart to this person and I can’t find the words to do so. Whenever I do get the chance to tell her my mind constructs some weird logic that convinces me not to tell her, and whenever I do want to tell her we are never alone together. Perhaps I am destined by some greater fate to live a life full of self-loathing and misery, that my muse for my writings is the loneliness that I feel when I know that I failed in a relationship. This knowledge, that I am a coward, may help me change for the better.