They say love is the heartbeat of mankind, the force that turns the world and “a many splendored thing”. I tend to agree with Pat Benetar–love is a battlefield.
with each compromise we give control, or gain it, only to return it in the future once again. We promise, to ourselves, to our someone, the honor and respect we see they deserve, then fight ourself to not subjugate him or her to our will. We state our surrender to the other on occasion, only to make contingency plans. So we never have to feel that way ever again. The way we felt when our heart was broken. How we felt when we were kicked while we were down. The way we felt when we discovered that all they said about us was true. Old. Ugly. Fat. Slut. Whore. Drunk. Worthless. Stupid.
These words take on new meaning as they sink within our souls. They are who and what we shelter behind out of fear. Somewhere, somehow, inside we question their validity. We know we are more. But we hide behind the words, live within a dream and know that when we look in the mirror, we can sometimes see ourselves, and not the armor.