Tears From The Warrior

[After a few months of break the blue feather pen, fills itself with ink and starts writing once more]

All my life I was prepared to be as a warrior, let us not say trained, but prepared mentally and emotionally. Let me just say that it turns you into a very efficient person and also very strong to endure pressure as risk situations or emotional stress. Yes. Those prepared as warriors are armed to become independent and turn out as winners in every competition that they face. It all sounds rather beautiful, powerful and desirable at some point.

However, let us know that as strong and ruthless a warrior may be, no matter how many acts of cruelty he has to plan and execute, no matter how ice cold his mind has turned, in the end they are all humans. Façades of metal and ice with hawk eyes that would see deep into sin and death and not linger, their souls freezing from all the hardening they have been forced to commit into their own selves.

Strong, aggressive, competitive, unstoppable and ruthless the warriors go out to hunt winnings and they conquer them but these ice masters with metal skins and icicles in their eyes, they end up breaking up now and then. That becomes their doom, their curse and their downfall, as for they have been raised to endure not to bend, so they shall stand and endure the coldest winter and the fiercest storm holding on and abide through all that, because that is how they were raised and there is no second path for them.

But once of them walked away, he walked far from sight and went high up into the mountain, seeking refuge within the thick forest, where nobody could see him because he knew that he was about to break down.

Strong and proud he used to walk through the sidewalks of the town, people would cross his path but move away, some were afraid, some saw him as a strange being, and very few saw the warrior within him, but in the end he walked alone, for that had been his path since he was a small kid. Back then he wished he could be part of the rest and have fun, but that was not allowed, he had to become a winner, he had to succeed above everyone else. And eventually he did, he stood above them all. But the top is a single player position and he was alone up high.

Back then the warrior realized he was alone and it hurt, the cold of the lonely winter hit him hard and made him shiver while the warrior saw those he had surpassed, they were laughing, they seemed happy even if he went above them and he was now on top, but he was on top and alone. So he tried to change, he tried to relate with other people, but they already saw him as a weird one. Then the warrior took of his armor and once again tried to be a soft cheerful person, but he was rejected once more and the spear of humiliation pierced through his chest and it remained there while he looked at them walk away with bright smiles in their careless faces.

He then got up and put his armor back on, but the spear was there and it wouldn’t come out. So the warrior went back on his journey fighting to be successful and winning most of the time, all that just to realize he was back alone at the top and to feel the chill of loneliness, because when they raise you to become a fighter and endure as a winner, they don’t teach you how to live with the emptiness in the heart. So the warrior tried once and again and again to bound to people just to find several spears piercing his body and each time he got up his eyes turned colder and his soul became bitterer. But people didn’t noticed.

So when he retired out into the mountain he did so, because he needed to shed a tear, he was looking for a place to remove his armor, a place where no spears would be sent to him, a place where he could bend and admit he was a human, a lonely sacred place where he could remember what the emotions were. Joy and happiness seemed so far away, but sadness was always hidden deep, very deep inside and shedding those tears made him remember that he was a human and once again he wished he was like those careless people, happy and joyful. But he faced the facts once more, he was alone and there was no sanctuary, nobody had took him and let him cry, he was sensitive and fragile, but he was forced to appear the other way around because when he appeared as the fragile man he was laughed at and humiliated and hurt.

So there he was, crying because people wouldn’t allow him to feel the warmth of love and the magic of joy, but facing that in the end people would just keep rejecting him and pushing him away, so this little sanctuary in the middle of the woods was his safe place where he could become human again and feel his scared heart as it was left by all those who carelessly threw their spears at him. They might’ve thought that it was nothing, but it meant something but they didn’t really cared, he was alone and he needed to be fragile again yet he longed someone to hold him and say that everything would be alright, someone to say that he would be protected, but no, he looked and faced the reality that forged him since he was a child. He was alone.