I tried to write something witty and insightful for you all about why I carry a knife. I really did. It covered potential defensive uses, how knives are arms and as such are protected by the second amendment just like guns. How useful a knife can be in daily situations, and how my knife helps me practice situational awareness for the day when I eventually concealed carry a gun. But I scrapped that article because it rang hollow. It wasn’t genuine and it showed. There was something missing, something I don’t like to talk about or admit to because it isn’t fun, practical or often discussed. That thing is Fear . . .
You see, I’m afraid. I’m afraid some day I may need to defend myself or others. I hope that day never comes, but hopes are poor substitutes for guarantees. I’m scared I might not be able to pull out my knife if I need it, and I’m scared of the ramifications if I do. I push through my fear though, because experience has taught me that fighting through fear steals its power. Working through my fear is the only way to permanently deal with it. If I don’t fight my fears, I accept that they rule me, I accept my role as victim to my fears, and as victim to those that would do me harm.
Yes, carrying a knife (and by extension a gun) scares me because of the terrible burden of personal responsibility, but I refuse to let fear dominate me. I refuse to let that fear define my life. I refuse, I Refuse, to allow fear of what might happen one day prevent me from being prepared for each and every day I have left on this earth, and living them all to the fullest. In short, I carry a knife because I take responsibility for myself, I carry because I refuse to be a victim.