Armor is protective items to cover a person or thing and protect them from injury or damage. A suit of armor is a full body suit of metal. Armor can also be a hand held shield or heavy metal vehicles.
A bullet proof vest that you couldn’t see and a sword by his side hanging down by his knee. This as the armour of modern day life, except it was invisible, all in the head, imaginary, not real.
I need armour against the world- it protects me. I’ve been through a lot of battles over the years and I’ve needed to protect myself, but didn’t. I now have boundaries, ways of dealing with stuff. Armour is self-care- self-love and being kind to myself. Getting rid of toxic people from my life!!!
The girl looked at the rusted armor hanging in front of her. The plaque beside the stand said it belonged to a woman warrior, a queen. It said that she was the one who won freedom for them, but everyone knew she took it.
My armor was destroyed. It was dented, bent, beat up. There were holes throughout the chest plate, scratches along the shoulders. The leg plates were completely torn off. My neck showed and there you could see bruises. Black, blue, purple, pink, etc. I was like a canvas being painted on. There was no more creamy white peeking through. My calloused hands were fine beneath their gloves and still gripped the iron sword tight as it slashed through the brisk air. My legs burned as I charged on, quivering and threatening to collapse any time I made a step. My face, despite being hidden behind a helmet, was home to many cuts and scars. No matter how tough the armor used to be, it was vulnerable now. Just like me.
Armor. My armor is neither shiny nor strong. It is not bulky nor clunky. It does not require a shining every time it is worn. If placed upon my chest during a duel, a new, red spot would appear. My armor does not protect in the sense of physicality, no. My armor is black and fuzzy. It lays horizontally across my body, covering every inch from my head to my toes. When it’s wrapped around me, time stops. It protects me mentally. It shields my mind from the stress of the “outside world.” And it was only $60 dollars.
Armor is shining metal on the man who is meant to be your protector. It keeps him safe as he goes on to fight for you. You are safe in his hands. He is yours and you are his. Nothing will tear you apart.
You think of armor as the shiny suit that protects the person who is in it. But one thing that you didn’t understand is that you don’t have to have a suit to protect you physically. But have it mentally or emotionally. It shouldn’t matter the size or the shininess of it. As long as it protects you then, it really shouldn’t matter. Honestly, I think that by having that armor, it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world! You could have the best feeling of not having to worry about people coming into your life and trying to tear it down. It is like you don’t have to worry about the struggles of making it through the day! You have that armor covering and protecting. Not letting nothing come through the door of your heart. Don’t let people come into your life and let them lie to you. Don’t let them come through and feed you with the heartbreak and the emotions that you could never get a hold of again! Let people see the real you and the armor of shine will keep that for you.
He cracked your armor. I guess you weren’t as strong as you thought. No that’s a lie. You are really strong. You are still okay. You might be hurt that he lied again. You might be hurt that he flirted with you this morning only to tell you he meant to say that he wanted to be friends. If you want to be friends, you don’t flirt. That’s not how it goes. That shiny armor you once had, you’ll get it back. Once you grow out of that suit, you have to get a new one.
I teach Women in Literature at a local community college. My four students are, in fact, women. Or you could call them girls in armor. Last night we talked about voices, about being made to feel small, about being small, about making ourselves small. And about all of the armor we put on to compensate. I am an adjunct professor, but really, just a girl herself. I told them that the first time I met them (our first class), I was nervous. I wasn’t completely myself. I had all my hard armor on. Last night, our second class, I was me. Me–cracking at their armor, pulling at it, scraping away shells. Saying, “Yes you do have an opinion. Yes, you can figure out this poem. No, you aren’t small at all. Not your brain. Not your personality. Not your potential.” We are not little women.
“I need it; it will deflect blows!”
Edwin gave his mentor a look of concern.
“It is for those not knowing how to save themselves. Those who cannot deflect blows on their own. Train without it so that you may live without it.”
Before Edwin could respond, his mentor thrust his sword through the chest plate, piercing it with his claymore. The stand made a snapping noise as the head fell off of the dislodged rest and to the ground.
Cover yourself in armor. Don’t let the words of others hurt you. Let their words fall right off your armor.They always say sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me. They’re wrong the words chip away at my armor until its completely gone. My armor failed me, next time the walls I put up will be so much stronger. No one will be able to hurt me again.
You wear your pride like armor –
Rigid, immobile, stubborn
Fierce to look at, terrifying to fight against.
But you were never meant to carry such weight;
To have your sweat pooling like tears at the base of your baggage.
Lay down your defenses, soldier – you need not fight any longer.
I put on armor to battle beasts and we are going to win with a super cannon and obliterated our enemies and had won.
Armor is protective items to cover a person or thing and protect them from injury or damage. A suit of armor is a full body suit of metal. Armor can also be a hand held shield or heavy metal vehicles.
A bullet proof vest that you couldn’t see and a sword by his side hanging down by his knee. This as the armour of modern day life, except it was invisible, all in the head, imaginary, not real.
I need armour against the world- it protects me. I’ve been through a lot of battles over the years and I’ve needed to protect myself, but didn’t. I now have boundaries, ways of dealing with stuff. Armour is self-care- self-love and being kind to myself. Getting rid of toxic people from my life!!!
The girl looked at the rusted armor hanging in front of her. The plaque beside the stand said it belonged to a woman warrior, a queen. It said that she was the one who won freedom for them, but everyone knew she took it.
Knights wear armor when they go into battle. Armor is normally made of metal and it can cover your whole body.
My armor was destroyed. It was dented, bent, beat up. There were holes throughout the chest plate, scratches along the shoulders. The leg plates were completely torn off. My neck showed and there you could see bruises. Black, blue, purple, pink, etc. I was like a canvas being painted on. There was no more creamy white peeking through. My calloused hands were fine beneath their gloves and still gripped the iron sword tight as it slashed through the brisk air. My legs burned as I charged on, quivering and threatening to collapse any time I made a step. My face, despite being hidden behind a helmet, was home to many cuts and scars. No matter how tough the armor used to be, it was vulnerable now. Just like me.
Armor. My armor is neither shiny nor strong. It is not bulky nor clunky. It does not require a shining every time it is worn. If placed upon my chest during a duel, a new, red spot would appear. My armor does not protect in the sense of physicality, no. My armor is black and fuzzy. It lays horizontally across my body, covering every inch from my head to my toes. When it’s wrapped around me, time stops. It protects me mentally. It shields my mind from the stress of the “outside world.” And it was only $60 dollars.
Armor is shining metal on the man who is meant to be your protector. It keeps him safe as he goes on to fight for you. You are safe in his hands. He is yours and you are his. Nothing will tear you apart.
You think of armor as the shiny suit that protects the person who is in it. But one thing that you didn’t understand is that you don’t have to have a suit to protect you physically. But have it mentally or emotionally. It shouldn’t matter the size or the shininess of it. As long as it protects you then, it really shouldn’t matter. Honestly, I think that by having that armor, it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world! You could have the best feeling of not having to worry about people coming into your life and trying to tear it down. It is like you don’t have to worry about the struggles of making it through the day! You have that armor covering and protecting. Not letting nothing come through the door of your heart. Don’t let people come into your life and let them lie to you. Don’t let them come through and feed you with the heartbreak and the emotions that you could never get a hold of again! Let people see the real you and the armor of shine will keep that for you.
He cracked your armor. I guess you weren’t as strong as you thought. No that’s a lie. You are really strong. You are still okay. You might be hurt that he lied again. You might be hurt that he flirted with you this morning only to tell you he meant to say that he wanted to be friends. If you want to be friends, you don’t flirt. That’s not how it goes. That shiny armor you once had, you’ll get it back. Once you grow out of that suit, you have to get a new one.
I teach Women in Literature at a local community college. My four students are, in fact, women. Or you could call them girls in armor. Last night we talked about voices, about being made to feel small, about being small, about making ourselves small. And about all of the armor we put on to compensate. I am an adjunct professor, but really, just a girl herself. I told them that the first time I met them (our first class), I was nervous. I wasn’t completely myself. I had all my hard armor on. Last night, our second class, I was me. Me–cracking at their armor, pulling at it, scraping away shells. Saying, “Yes you do have an opinion. Yes, you can figure out this poem. No, you aren’t small at all. Not your brain. Not your personality. Not your potential.” We are not little women.
What happened to the golden rule?
Why do we have to wear emotional armor to protect ourselves?
Why can’t we just be nice to one another?
“I need it; it will deflect blows!”
Edwin gave his mentor a look of concern.
“It is for those not knowing how to save themselves. Those who cannot deflect blows on their own. Train without it so that you may live without it.”
Before Edwin could respond, his mentor thrust his sword through the chest plate, piercing it with his claymore. The stand made a snapping noise as the head fell off of the dislodged rest and to the ground.
I’m not sure.
Cover yourself in armor. Don’t let the words of others hurt you. Let their words fall right off your armor.They always say sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me. They’re wrong the words chip away at my armor until its completely gone. My armor failed me, next time the walls I put up will be so much stronger. No one will be able to hurt me again.