Considering the context, the dirty sheets and the stained mattress and bribing sleep when it wouldn't come, how I held my breath and I took my fucking chances. I don't believe in fate but this had to happen. Considering the outcome; shaken men who know what they're made of, who met the edge and returned but never really returned, for better or for worse. I wouldn't go back. I prefer my memories untarnished. An awareness of the gravity is enough for me; perhaps that's cowardice. We've no fate to squander, no great purpose or hell to pay. You'll cut your teeth here too or learn to live with it either way.