Shield or Sword I got told to fill my mouth with medicine, to block the thoughts of suffering. I took them and drowned. I broke and shattered into a million pieces and every time I tried to hold them together, the fragments slipped through my fingertips like the ocean of sorrow I felt has welled up inside me. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I was stuck inside a fog that got thicker each time I reached out. Thick with self-doubt, insecurity, and fear. I shook so hard my bones rattled and my fingers couldn't dial SOS. And then I stopped. One day I let the pills fall to the floor and I walked away. The next morning, I breathed. I brushed my hair with a swift but steady stroke, and I saw my reflection clearly. I still struggle, and my demons were never gone, and I do not believe for a second I was taking poison. But I think holding a shield held me in place, that I was waiting to be struck and the effect of the attack resonated in my soul. So I've put down the shield and picked up a second sword. I haven't given in, but I'm not going to use the shield anymore. It didn't help me, I don't need it.