indecisive

I almost blame myself.

How can I help it that the separation is for the best? My conscience rebelling against my feelings for you both, my secret desire to let you know, and my shaking cowardice standing aside a need to speak my mind. When my moment comes, there is not courage enough to supplement the difference of belief. I cave into the bosom of denial and bitter self-loathing. And Someone covered for me; taking matters out of my district and bestowing justified calamity to help sort out my conscience, and rectify a state of pristine truthfulness. I rejoice and grieve, feeling treacherous that I can do both or either. Now, I read words to others that I did not write, and bury deep any spark of what I was about to say. It will continue with me unannounced, even though it should have been.