How many?
How many battles can one person fight at once until they are spread so far and so thin that they no longer actually exist in a world of their own? Until all that is left of them are faint fragments and traces left in others lives? Like pieces of a scattered robot, intent on being the missing part that will finally make the machine run smooth again. Is there a point when this warrior realizes that their body contains no scars? For there has been no time for a scar to form before they once again tear themselves apart for the sake of another, willing to fight until their very last breath. How many different areas can one person involve themselves in before they forget the very way in which they inhale and exhale to complete the daily cycle of life? Is it not a purpose of humans to help each as they are our own, and for that matter why should we not? Perhaps it is the truth that humans are, in fact, incapable of ever truly breaking or shattering. There is no limit, no point we reach from which we cannot recover. We are an amazing phenomenon, under utilized and for granted. Or perhaps we are much more fragile, and our strength is but a simple illusion that we use as a shield to protect ourselves from the impracticality and impossibility of life. Either way, our brilliance is as clear and as complex as the existence of each rise, and of each fall, of each fingerprint.