We don’t always fear pain.
Sometimes, we fear the good.
The softness that feels too unfamiliar. The moments that feel too safe. When you’ve lived long enough bracing for the fall, even love can feel like a setup.
So we build armor out of fear, call it discipline, and convince ourselves walking away is protection.
But what happens when the thing we’re guarding against is already inside us?
A Poem:
Samurai
By Carlee Evans
I don’t need enemies.
I come with a blade of my own.
Silent. Deliberate.
Trained in the art of undoing myself
before anyone else gets the chance.
I cut deepest when things start to feel safe,
when something soft tries to stay.
I unsheath doubt and call it protection.
I walk away before you can.
I ruin the moment before it can ruin me.
It’s not fear of failure that holds me hostage.
It’s the terror of something good not lasting.
I have made rituals out of retreating.
Call it discipline,
call it survival.
But the truth is,
this armor was never meant
to be worn forever.
And sometimes
the wound
doesn’t come from the world.
It comes from the hand
the sword was meant to guard.
Reflection:
What armor are you still carrying that was only meant to be temporary?
Have you ever pushed something good away out of fear it wouldn’t last?
