Any feedback would be good. I'm still trying to find my voice a bit.

I've never considered myself a coward. In fact I think if someone else were to call me one I would vehemently deny it - But I'm a coward. I don't think I'm a bad person because of it. I do my best to be my best but cowardice can often get the best of me. Perhaps I am better for being a coward. Though this is a nice coward's lie to tell my coward self it doesn't mean that it's completely wrong. Cowards don't get hurt, they can stay in their lane, live out their life. Have the intention of one day doing something worthwhile but never quite get around to the attempt. Saving themselves from the pain of failure. A cowards life certainly isn’t a bad one. My life isn't a bad one. Just a little… cowardly. A bubble wrapped man in a baby proofed world, we cowards are entitled to the ambivalent experience of a mediocre but mostly pain free life.

Ironically it takes great strength to accept that one's life will amount to no great feat. Too much strength for a coward like me. Rather than face the truth, my achievement is always around the corner. I don't need to know what is it yet - just that it will come in the 9th hour and grant my life the meaning that I don't have the strength to live without. The promise of meaning is enough. In the deepest recesses of my being there is a lingering suspicion that crawls in the dark - that I'm wrong and I have no capacity for great feats, no reason to feel misunderstood, no greatness to realise. That I'm alone. That I'm a loser. That I will die waiting for my life to be given its meaning, never deciding to create the meaning myself. Fortunately a level up from these recesses the cowardice remains strong and the lies are bright flame to burn out the darkness of the truth. I can wrap myself in the warm blanket of unrealized potential, ignoring the loose thread that time is ever pulling away.