I attack life with a voracious hunger. I will not let this jungle win the fight of survival that I participate in every day. I will conquer the obstacles that block my way. This jungle with its vines and trees and wild animals waiting to bite my toes, my legs, my head, my body, but I will not let them bite my heart. My heart is mine. It carries my soul. It carries my emotion. It carries my passion. Snakes chase me down paths but when I turn to face them they disappear in frustration. The trees hide the eyes of others peering out at me, watching me play the game. Making bets on whether or not I will win. Monkeys make their home on my back as if I do not already have a village of troubles living there. Quicksand and quagmire open at my feet, ready to suck me out of existence, waiting in hiding until my attention slips and my foot slides in. One foot slides while the other foot remains on dry land. The monkeys on my back are screaming. They thought they’d be safe on my back, that I would take care of them eventually. I put my weight, somehow, on the foot that is still dry and on solid ground and grab the sticks and vines and grass. I slowly pull myself back into the jungle. I keep the quagmire from getting me, this time.