The walk into battle...

Nothing can beat the feeling of walking arm and arm with your fellow soldiers, sounds of the battle drum perpetuating the rhythm of your heart. Adrenaline flows through your every vein as you march in time to enemy lines.  ~I'm totally speaking metaphorically here. Ain't no fucking way I'm going into a real battle, I've got alabaster skin.~ But...then you get to those enemy lines, your own heartbeat drowns out the sound of the drum and you look to either side and realize you are totally and utterly alone- you laugh to yourself and say 'well shit, this is not how I saw this playing out.'
And you wince in self-deprivation as you take each bullet. And you find a sense of peace as the metal pierces your skin.  
I'm pretty sure that taking an actual bullet packs more of a sting, but you see where I'm going with this.
Do we give up when standing alone or do we keep fighting? Is the line drawn at the enemies feet?
I find myself playing out this scenario and answering these questions on a daily basis. The details vary, but the message is always the same - 'You FIGHT!' There is no peace in piercing metal. I can't even handle period cramps. Self-deprivation is a bigger killer than SARS. And if you stand your ground as if you're 10,000 men (or women, no discrimination here) you will win. 
Victory. 
And then you'll find your peace. Which I imagine is a lot like Tom Hanks at the end of 'Castaway.' At a crossroads with a full tank of gas and a future you can make your own. And you can't go fucking wrong with Tom Hanks.