Pascifist

What it would be like to tell someone, I don’t believe in fighting. And that someone not call me a spineless coward. Every time you insult me, my anger is overpowered. I give into depression. Yes, this is my confession. I have taken a beating and more. But I’m spineless, you say, right down to the core. I know my voice is so small and I don’t speak up for myself when I should. If I could handle the stress, then I would. But my chest starts to hurt this terrible ache and pain. Every gasp for air is only in vain. I can’t seem to stop crying. I feel only weak for trying. This is what happens when I try to do what’s right. I just simply cannot fight.