There is a Samurai in my acquaintance who is a constant source of love, and aspiration for me.
I am in awe of him.
Sometimes walking down the mossy paths across the narrow bridges inside my being, I suddenly remember that there are fighters who made it, and suckers who did not. Sometimes I have fought, sometimes, I have been sucked in. What always mattered was that I survived. And I am. Surviving.
Its somehow simple once you realize that you can never give up on life. If you do, then it means you have lost yourself, left yourself behind, and given up searching for it. And so you try to find it in death.