I did not ask for the shield; I built it because the alternative was falling apart. Every wall, every cold response, every habit of echoing others was put in place to keep a child safe in a world that was not. Given a quiet, safe start, I would have grown wide open to the daylight just like anyone else—the distance I carry isn’t who I chose to be, but how I survived what happened to me.
Tag Archives: emotional detachment
An Armour-plated Heart…
Forged in the shadow of early turmoil, emotional detachment becomes both a shield and a survival strategy. This poem traces the arc of a life constructed behind an armour-protected fortress—where human relationships are viewed with distant, calculated precision, and sentimentality holds no power.
The Difference Between Us…
I look at my son today and see a child who lives without fear, knowing only safety and warmth. But looking at his freedom means looking back at the child I was—the girl who had to hide behind glass just to survive. This poem is about that contrast, the vow I made to protect him, and the quiet hope that one day the walls inside my own mind might finally drop.
Just Like Me…
We are taught to fear the people who don’t fit the mold, as if a lack of conventional warmth means a lack of a soul. But some minds don’t freeze out of malice, they freeze to survive.
But survival isn’t pretty, and wiring isn’t a choice. This is what it looks like when the walls finally meet a mirror.
Am I A Monster?…
My childhood taught me that love is dangerous. Between a violent alcoholic father and a mother who refused to leave, my child’s brain simply cut the wires to survive. I don’t love, and I don’t want to be loved. It’s just how I am and I don’t miss something I’ve never had. But I am not a monster. I am just different.