Shell

I think I am very much like a tortoise.

No, it’s not that I look like one.
No, it’s not that people say I look like one.
I’m just kinda like one.

Let me explain…

A tortoise has a hard shell on its back, which functions as its home, and is its protection from danger.
As for me, I think I very much have that shell too. No, not a physical one, but instead, my shell is very much my quiet, shy and steely exterior.

It’s very much my home as it is my comfort zone, something I easily fall back into whenever I need a little assurance. And it is also very much my protection as it serves as an effective wall and barrier, keeping danger away and providing me a place to hide myself behind whenever I feel like running away.

However, as protected I am by my shell, I’m also very much vulnerable like a tortoise when it is turned onto its back. Soft plastron (underside of shell) exposed and unable to get back on its feet, oftentimes, I do feel like that. Despite having a strong shell to protect me from most things, once someone tips me over onto my shell, and leave me exposed like the poor tortoise would be once it’s tipped over, I become extremely vulnerable and defenseless to everything else.

My “strong shell” works in two ways as well. As much as it serves as a strong protective barrier from danger, it can also be an obstruction in my path, a wall that keeps me away from everything else out there. It keeps the bad things out, but it also keeps the good and sometimes important things from coming in. If I’m lucky, I might be able to get that little boost I need to look over the wall to the other side. But most of the time, I’m totally oblivious to everything happening on the other side of that wall. And that has, many times before, left me disappointed at myself time and time again.
As much as I think that I need that shell of mine, I also think that I am capable of doing well without it as well.

Sometimes I just hate that shell so much.
Somebody, please break my shell.