A Noble Coward

He sits in a prison of his making, buried under the weight of unseen shadows, and dogged by mistakes of a past his present self will not acknowledge. A man in fear for his life, in fear of his wife, a man about to take his life, or just a man and nothing but.  He is me, and I am him. A person apart from him, a sole piece of him, and just like him, I am a coward. I fear many things but suffer from an even greater fear: the fear of one’s self. I hide behind a vacuous smile and hollow eyes in fear that expressing my opinions might inflict pain on another. I avoid my feelings as in my emotions is a dangerous place to be. I am afraid that in my constant neglect of honesty and openness I have rendered myself incapable of articulation. I fear that I will never be able to direct my life’s story and not be threatened or guilted into it as I have been all my life. I lack the courage to stand up to the wielders of my freedom, to stand up to the jailers in my mind, and my imaginary oppressors. I believe I am capable of doing so but doubt the righteousness of the act, plagued by a faulty moral compass that presents itself whenever it chooses. I fear the freedom I hope to own as my heart is now fettered to fear.