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Identity. The fight for recognition and acceptance is bloody, brutal, challenging. Battered and bruised, you push forward. Arrows and spears and knifes piercing your skin, like insults and oppressive individuals standing in the way. Throwing sneers and jeering at you as you struggled, blood smearing the already dirtied, roughened path. Neglecting the shiny glittery path of pearls, gold and precious gems in favor of the harsh conditions to temper your mind, soul, body and conscience, sharpening and strengthening them beyond the grasp of the multitude. You refuse the easy path, desiring to make a name for yourself with your own hands, by your own efforts, by your own sacrifices. Paving the way, carving out your own path with your blood, sweat and tears with no one to tend to your wounds, dry your tears and offer chilled water to ease the sweltering heat. Such is life, losing yourself, your name forgotten all in a bid to stand at the pinnacle of the world and be among the eternally remembered, a martyr.

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