I’ve been through the long dark of Moria. I got lost, then attacked but eventually I fought and clawed my way out. I refuse to go back to the darkness willingly. Sometimes an orc or goblin, heck even a troll, will hit me over the head and drag my fat ass back. But even then! I have enough sense, to sneak out and make my way back to the light. Sometimes I see the light and I reach for it, but something happens and I get dragged back in. But I find a way out! And eventually I taste the air of freedom again. So I am very sorry, but I will not go back. And I will not allow anyone else to drag me with them. Yes maybe to save them. But if I go in, and they standing there, paralysed with fear, I’m not going to sacrifice myself. I will smack the person and if that person has no sense to save themselves. Or to even try to. I will turn and run. That shit, you can count on.
There comes a moment in everyone’s life, where we have to choose. We either lie down and get beaten or we stand and fight. And I’ve come to the sad realisation that more people will lie down than stand up. But I’ve done the work. So whatever freedom I feel now, I have earned. Whatever happiness I feel, however small, I have earned. And for not one minute do I take it for granted. Or do I forget that it can all be taken away from me. In a second.