behind my armour

I wasn’t sure why I was doing this. Why was I here, looking, opening myself to emotions I had locked out most of my life? They needed to stay locked out, I told myself. That was survival.

‘Whom are you going to run from?’ You might ask.

No one. Everyone.

The strange moment had passed. And it had been nerves, not needs.We’re just strangers; we’d pass each other on the street. You don’t know anything about my feelings. But I felt everything slip out of focus.

I wasn’t going to cry, not in front of you or anyone, but it came out anyway. There was nothing, absolutely nothing to cry about.

I felt empty inside. Everyone else had left, and I lived with the daily fear that I would be left again and again.

So, I learned to control my emotions that had become my most successful defence against criticisms and my own insecurity.

If there were moments when I had longed for something more, something… exciting, unfathomable, I’d suppressed the needs. I’d come to believe that if I played by the rules, if I followed the steps carefully laid out for me, I’d win in the end. So my rebellions had been very discreet and my dreams meticulously subdued.

I left too, before they came back. Before they can leave me again.

You don’t know how easily I could slip into my armour. It’s never easy to know anyone unless I want to. So, I do what I know best. I run, steel myself. If I don’t look at you in the eyes, please forgive me.