Cowardice

Cowardice is my constant companion always arriving in delicate disguise.

He appears humble to avoid humiliation,

Or restrained to avoid rejection,

Or private to avoid exposure,

Or intelligent to appear capable,

Or angry to try to scare away real or imaginary threats.

He can appear pragmatic and balanced when he is afraid his opinions will be criticized,

Or worse, be proven wrong.

He can appear accomplished, but limited his risk and only pushed as far as he could with low to no chance of abject failure.

I don’t completely know what I carry.

I don’t want to know badly enough to go to a hypnotist or otherwise re-experience what I don’t remember.

Because, really, why would I want to go back

To that which is too scary for me to remember?

Cowardice begets cowardice.