"As mist was covering sight, the warrior fell into the ground. Barely seeing, somehow the fireflies shone even brighter than ever. One of them flew near the warrior. He recognized the firefly. The one he crossed path with so many times along the journey. The one that left some staining color on his armor. The one he's too afraid to go with yet too desolate to go without. As he was relieved with the presence, another one flew near. A consuming pulse was running straight to him. The warrior came to a quandary. What will he do next? Which one? To try again or to start? Deep inside, he knew the right answer. a bold NO. On the easier level, it's about trust and mistrust. So far, he chose to let it just fly around, at least for now."

Blood quandary.
I can say that I've been sipping things I shouldn't. Somehow, I'm getting used to it. What if it's actually the way to get rid of this? What if I get used to this, and then it leads to deprivation of the feeling?

Then again, maybe all these haze is just me and my personal fable.