She has never quite loved me. Yet I badgered her, forced myself upon her until she gave up time and time again.

We formed this love-hate relationship no one could understand. She hated how she caved in, but I loved how I could always control a part of her. She loved me for being her comfort-zone, but I hated that she’s always wanted to venture out.

I hold her back by the wrists, wrestle with her heart and play with her mind. I grab her by the throat and breathe down her neck. I am the fear that makes her choose flight instead of fight. I am the difference between right and wrong. I am a force to be reckoned with, a formidable opponent she can never quite match up to. I am the seed of doubt in her soul, the only one able to stop her in times of crisis.

I am Cowardice.