Armor

I

wonder if

people can see

through the clothes I

wear, if they know what

is hidden underneath. I wonder if

they are aware that these clothes are

armor, protecting my fragile flesh. Armor

that hides away my insecurities,

armor shielding me from

the daily bullets

of rejection-

shot

from the

guns of life.

Armor that falsely portrays

an image of confidence. What

if they discovered the person they

see, isn't the person underneath?

Would they prefer my

clothes, or would

they prefer,

me?

Behind the Poem

I remember when my dad took me to buy my first suit.

To be clear, it wasn't my first suit ever. I had worn suits growing up for Easter Sunday and other special occasions. But this one felt different. I was preparing to enter my senior year of college. I was stepping into adulthood, stepping into my manhood, and for the first time, a suit felt less like something I was told to wear and more like something I chose for myself.

I loved how I felt in it.

But what surprised me even more was how other people responded to it.

People looked at me differently. Strangers addressed me as "sir." They held eye contact a little longer. They seemed to assume I was competent, responsible, and successful before I had spoken a single word. Whether intentional or not, I was treated differently.

And I began to enjoy that feeling.

Over time, I subconsciously started tying my confidence to the image I projected. I began to believe that respect came from looking the part. That if I appeared successful, people would take me seriously. That if I looked confident, maybe I would actually become confident.

Then life happened.

After losing my first job out of college, many of the insecurities I thought I had outgrown came rushing back. I feared people would discover that I didn't have everything figured out. That I wasn't as confident as I appeared. That underneath the accomplishments, titles, and carefully crafted image was someone who was a fraud.

Not because I had failed, but because I had built so much of my identity around appearing successful that I didn't know who I was without it.

Armor was born from that fear.

In the poem, my clothes become symbols of protection. A shield against rejection, insecurity, disappointment, and exposure. The armor creates the illusion of confidence while hiding how fragile I feel underneath.

Honestly, this illusion of safety can be anything. For me, it was hiding behind achievements and accomplishments. But sometimes we hide behind relationships, humor, success, social media, money, intelligence, or status. We build versions of ourselves that feel safer to present than our actual vulnerability.

At the end of the day, Armor is about the belief that we must earn acceptance through performance, appearance, or achievement.

Through the years, as I have continued to strive for perfection, I've realized how unrealistic and unattainable that goal really is. The truth is, making mistakes doesn't make me a fraud. It simply means I am still learning, still growing, and still finding my footing.

And growth is a good thing.

Don't get me wrong—even now, I'm still learning to separate my worth from my performance. I'm still learning that my value isn't determined by what I accomplish or how others perceive me. Some days that lesson comes easier than others.

But I keep returning to the same truth:

Clothes don't define me.

Success doesn't define me.

Accolades don't define me.

God defines me.

And I'm learning to let that be enough.

I hope you do too.

Beyond the Page

Armor is featured in my poetry collection, Behind the Smile, a book that explores identity, faith, love, loss, healing, and the stories we often keep hidden beneath the surface.

While the poem centers on clothing as a form of protection, the deeper question it asks is one many of us wrestle with: If everything external were stripped away, would we still recognize our own worth?

If you'd like to read more pieces from Behind the Smile, the book is available on Amazon.