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.

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