The cowardice to ante up.

Soaked in a numbing sweat, I lie here governed by a logical construct; an acceptable place to dwell, except life demands that emotion inform the action of my present state. Stuck in a situation I cannot think my way out of, I'm reluctant to engage my heart for fear that this exposure, if not ideal, will cause it to cease feeling, shrivel up, and become a useless mound of dust. So I hold that trump card close to my vest and check the river and the turn knowing the chances of me folding are greater than me going all in.