Life is war. Everyday, you wake up, get dressed, maybe have a little breakfast, and then fight your way out the door. You lead your armies of experience and inclination out into enemy occupied territory, never knowing who you'll lose that day and how many of you will make it back home alive when it's over. Sometimes it seems overwhelming, and scary as hell. But you wake up every morning and you still fight, still press on, still come home battered and bruised and feeling alive. So I'll keeping swinging my sword of determination, cutting bloody swaths through those that attempt to hold me back and encase me, until I stand alone on that far hill, armor of hope gleaming brilliantly in the light of a new day.