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annoyed that im 30 and still being carded for smokes.. for christ sakes i look like im still 17.. everyone in my class thinks im frozen in time..
although with all my grandparents passing, my parents getting older and several old age sicknesses setting in.. its depressing at times..
12 members of my class are dead..
everyone.. (yet again do to my age and the way i look) thinks my son of 5 years old is my little brother..
you know how hard it is to get a loan or such.. even though im 30..
some of the girls of my class actually think im good looking now.. and that they actually talk to them.. i hold grudges though so i snob them..
when i wake up in the morning im wondering why my knees ache and my fingers go numb at times..
my memory is lacking at times.. when i use to recall it all..
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It means only one thing, and everything: Cut. Once committed to fight, Cut. Everything else is secondary. Cut. That is your duty, your purpose, your hunger. There is no rule more important, no commitment that overrides that one. Cut. The lines are a portrayal of the dance. Cut from the void, not from bewilderment. Cut the enemy as quickly and directly as possible. Cut with certainty. Cut decisively, resoultely. Cut into his strength. Flow through the gaps in his guard. Cut him. Cut him down utterly. Don't allow him a breath. Crush him. Cut him without mercy to the depth of his spirit. It is the balance to life: death. It is the dance with death. It is the law a war wizard lives by, or he dies.
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