Though long an unused weapon, I'm fairly proficient with a sword. I can cut someone down if I feel a need to do so. Katana, Broadsword, Rapier, Sabre, anything of the nature really. If pressed, I'm confident I could cut to ribbons anyone threatening me. Same goes for most other mideval/pre-gunpowder weapons.
I've fired almost every kind of firearm, save for heavy machine guns and SMG's. I'm an accurate shot, and should the need arise, I could take a loaded firearm, and put three in the chest of anyone threatening me.
I've taken Martial Arts classes and worked on my own with hand to hand combat, and am reasonably confident in my ability to defend myself if need be.
I could be stealthier, but I am reasonably confident that should the need arise, I could stab, shank, garrote, bludgeon or shoot someone without their knowledge.
I treat everything in my life as a fight.
It's me (or Me and those close to me) versus the world, or whatever minions the world may seek to send my way.
I've weathered challenges to my body and soul. I've overcome threats to my family and friends. I'll never stop training myself to be better and better at these things. I find it enjoyable, in fact, to hone my ability.
I wear Bushido on my back, and seek to adhere to the principles upon which it stands. It makes sense to me.
While life has indeed given me temporary setbacks, I can't really say that I've ever been truly brought down, though admittedly, I've come dangerously close to that precipice before. It's like standing at the edge of a cliff, and looking down to see deep water and sharp rocks. When you look at something like that, you get a whole new appreciation for life.
I've seen and done these things, and each time, I've stood up, shaken my hair out, squared my shoulders, and kept on living.
So why, oh why, oh why do things threaten to bring me down now?
After 10 or 11 days of not speaking to Melissa, to trying to get my life back in order, trying to get my head on straight and my heart back into a reasonable semblance of stability...
Why oh why does she have to go and say and do the things she does?
If there was a woman that could bring me to my knees, it's her. Pride dictates that I say something macho here. Pride is a powerful thing, and mine is pretty bad as they go. Pride says I shouldn't...
So why do I feel like a whipped dog, even when I believe I might have triumphed?
I don't know whether I feel like Hector or Achilles at the moment. Prepared to lose everything, or confident that everything is within my grasp.
Quite possibly I hate not knowing the most. I don't know, honestly, I really don't.
Fortunately, I'm too determined to consider Seppuku. It's just too easy.
Or, maybe I'm just an emotional masochist.
I've fired almost every kind of firearm, save for heavy machine guns and SMG's. I'm an accurate shot, and should the need arise, I could take a loaded firearm, and put three in the chest of anyone threatening me.
I've taken Martial Arts classes and worked on my own with hand to hand combat, and am reasonably confident in my ability to defend myself if need be.
I could be stealthier, but I am reasonably confident that should the need arise, I could stab, shank, garrote, bludgeon or shoot someone without their knowledge.
I treat everything in my life as a fight.
It's me (or Me and those close to me) versus the world, or whatever minions the world may seek to send my way.
I've weathered challenges to my body and soul. I've overcome threats to my family and friends. I'll never stop training myself to be better and better at these things. I find it enjoyable, in fact, to hone my ability.
I wear Bushido on my back, and seek to adhere to the principles upon which it stands. It makes sense to me.
While life has indeed given me temporary setbacks, I can't really say that I've ever been truly brought down, though admittedly, I've come dangerously close to that precipice before. It's like standing at the edge of a cliff, and looking down to see deep water and sharp rocks. When you look at something like that, you get a whole new appreciation for life.
I've seen and done these things, and each time, I've stood up, shaken my hair out, squared my shoulders, and kept on living.
So why, oh why, oh why do things threaten to bring me down now?
After 10 or 11 days of not speaking to Melissa, to trying to get my life back in order, trying to get my head on straight and my heart back into a reasonable semblance of stability...
Why oh why does she have to go and say and do the things she does?
If there was a woman that could bring me to my knees, it's her. Pride dictates that I say something macho here. Pride is a powerful thing, and mine is pretty bad as they go. Pride says I shouldn't...
So why do I feel like a whipped dog, even when I believe I might have triumphed?
I don't know whether I feel like Hector or Achilles at the moment. Prepared to lose everything, or confident that everything is within my grasp.
Quite possibly I hate not knowing the most. I don't know, honestly, I really don't.
Fortunately, I'm too determined to consider Seppuku. It's just too easy.
Or, maybe I'm just an emotional masochist.