The Wretched Warrior

The hardness of the person’s shell represents the softness of his inside. Some people tend to be introvert to protect their vulnerable interior. This shell has been calcified through years of pain, ordeals and trauma. Scars, hardened and etched, bear each battle that he has painstakingly have fought and gone through. And like a clam, he instantly snaps his armor close as if the exposure of his inside means fighting for his life.

This shell is the only thing that separates the outside world and his fragile self. But this also disconnects him from inner joy that is ironically activated by an outer stimulus. Rigid and impenetrable, this is his defense mechanism. He rarely talks. He rarely mingles or makes friends. The world is cruel.

But when the blue moon lights up the sky, he peeks. Somewhere in his frail and lonely heart lies a hope to catch glimpses of joy outside that protective case. In very rare occasions, you may fortunately happen to witness this phenomenon, passing by him away from his armor.

There, for probably six years or so, he shakes his hand with happiness again. He lets you inside his mysterious shell. And there, you still see fresh scars, some muscles barely attached to his body, and a feeble heart that struggles to pump. Handed onto you is his key of trust. And you hear the tale of his armor. On the floor lay shattered pieces of himself that he gradually picks up each day. You see a havoc, an evidence of an unfortunate catastrophe. He is wrecked, you see.

Now he exposes himself. He expects you to help him heal. He wants you to harden him from the inside, break his shell and lead him outside. He is taking the risk. He is terrified because six years ago when the blue moon last lit up the sky, this warrior was sabotaged. He was inflicted with more wounds. His broken pieces were stepped on. After all, he still longs to mend. There is a flame of hope that never runs out. And he painfully takes each step towards that day when he will throw his shell away.