if there is one thing your parents instilled in you, it was the importance of hard work. there is passion; there is innate talent, but there is no replacement for sweat and blood. the only way to die an honorable death is to never stop fighting, fight with the best of your ablities and the worst of your memories and even if you can't stop, you don't. it's how you got out of a job that scarred your childhood and into one that stole the rest of your life- forced your bones to grind to the beat of an invisible tolling bell, timed to how much longer you can fight and turn your beats of sweat into pearls and adoration. you've learned, over the years, which corners are acceptable to cut: the smiles that catch you fans, the blankness that makes you endearing, the earnestness that earns you trust. it's okay because it's not like your taking anything away from anyone (it's not like everyone else doesn't do it too) and when they fail, learn something new. your voice isn't strong enough, so learn to dance, be the best, or fight to get there.

if your bones are ground to dust and your body dried up and out of water to pour out, then isn't that the most honorable death of all (but the bell hasn't finished tolling yet)