shoughts (i)

August 21, 2018

I have moments when I forget who the fuck I am. Like I come from a long line of warriors, yet from time to time, in the despair of constant battling, I start to fear that I am truly incapable of defending myself. Like I am not enough to hold my own when I need to.

And then some nights, lost in slumber, I still sense in ways I don’t quite understand, the presence of people entering my vulnerable space. And my sleepy hands, like second nature, find my blades wherever they lie and throw them with deadly precision.

Then I remember.

Fear is fine if it’s the mirror that shows me all I need to confront.
Doubt no matter what form it takes, is unacceptable. A mirage.

I obviously need to get inked soon.

Made of Sand
Not Dura, but Alaminadura

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