Author Information
Fighter
I'm tired of fighting.
Nobody asked me if I wanted to be a fighter.
I don't want to be selfish and quit.
But putting on this armor every day weighs on my body and soul.
I'm exhausted.
Just once, I want someone to help me take care of me.
Someone to assist me in my struggles, not because I ask, but because they want to.
No judgements passed.
Someone who will help me to remove some of this armor and put it on themselves and not fight for me, but fight with me.
Someone to help me carry the weight of my past.
With shoulders strong enough to hold the insecurities in my tears.
I can't fight anymore.
Not alone.
Bullets of reality hit my shields and deflect but always leave their mark.
A small dent or scratch.
My once new armor now looks worn.
Let me lay down my sword.
I don't want to fight anymore.
Let me press pause while I undress myself and stand up tall, fully exposed in front of you.
If you would like to pick up my armor off the ground and wear it for a while and protect me, I would be forever grateful.
But I don't expect you it.
Although I spent so many years shielding you.
But that's who I am.
I'm a fighter.
But nobody asked me if I wanted to be a fighter.
So today...
I quit.
