Fight or die

There are instances in his existence where a man finds himself up against the wall. Shoved there by society, leaned on by life, cornered by circumstance. Lacking the headroom to breathe deeply, the elbow room to move comfortably, the open space to spread his wings. The pressure mounts as he feels his shoulder blades pressing against the cold brick. The darkness envelopes him as he ponders his ever-contracting space, struggling to focus on the thinnest sliver of daylight, his mind no longer able to conjure a light at the end of this black chasm. His lungs are unable to expand, allowing for only the most shallow of breaths . At this, the most defining of moments, he is left to make a choice. Fight or die. Cave, relent and fold up like a cheap tent or continue on resisting, with no promise of survival, with no guarantee that his most valiant of efforts will not be mere acts of futility. The truth that reality TV, network sitcoms and music videos won’t tell you… The fact ignored in your favorite celebrity’s self-aggrandizing blog is that there is dignity to be found in struggle. There is honor to be discovered in your pain and sacrifice, splendor in the ugliness that defines human survival. Life, at its essence, is a war of attrition—the paradoxical situation in which a man must be willing to give his dying breath in his effort to endure, to lose it all in order to win. At the dusk of our days, let the sun not set on your submission, for the true victory you seek may simply lie in having never given up.