The high of such determination is intoxicating as much as excruciating… as I grit my teeth to the pain and laugh, scoff at the fear that, if I sit to rest even for the slightest minute, I might not be able to stand or take another step ever again. Clenching my hands into solid rock fists eases the pain surprisingly, so that I’m able to keep walking on, and on, and on… walking, even when joints have gone sour with strain, even when sweat is dripping down my brow like rain, even as I have to drag my feet and push myself onward. Marching, pace steady as I go, eyes ablaze, to whatever destiny awaits me.
It will be the destiny I will have made for myself.
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