Machine

Those who followed my journey may know that I struggle to decide my true identity.

One part, a warrior

One part a poet and caregiver

The struggle started when I met my nightingale. Suddenly I became soft, caring and artistic. And it scared me. It confused me enough to even write poetry about it (see “The warrior and Poet” poem).

You see, I grew up in chaos. Physical and emotional conflict, lies and loneliness. I became a warrior to survive… or so I thought. I was mistaken about that part.

I became a machine

To survive I had to shut out my human self and become a weapon. A cold, calculating sharp weapon. It was neccessary too, I almost did not survive despite my best efforts.

I confused strength and courage with clinically precise destruction.

Today I put all that behind me. In the last year and a half I slowly put that dark part of myself away. Today I say farewell. It served me well, it kept me alive. But now I do not need it any more, and it does not have to weigh me down any more.

Who am I now?

I am a poet, caregiver, warrior and pillar of strength to those who put their trust in me.

To you, dear reader
I ask you, who are you deep down? Maybe you made my mistake, mistaking the mask you wear for your true self. Perhaps you are on a journey of discovery about who you are. It is my sincere hope that you have found yourself, and now share my happiness in knowing what your heart looks like.

To those who are still looking, seek and you shall find. Keep looking, keep going out of your comfort zone, and you will find your own heart!

Warm regards
Havoc

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