More happy thoughts of the season

You are what you eat, wear, spend, drive...
But actually, you are the summation of your choices.
Live with them, they are yours.
Live with them, bad or good.
Scar tissues builds up into a carapice.
When it's intact, it should deflect bullets.
Figuratively, of course- because you lack the prayers that deflect the real thing.
The proper sacrifices haven't been made.
The proper deals haven't been struck.
But overall that's ok.
Because the kind of bullets I'm talking about only
draw imaginary blood.
The kind that wakes you up in the middle of the night screaming.
Because it's pretend horror. And pretend blood.
But real pain.
Them's the breaks, cap'n.
Choices with the accompanying cacophany of results.
Own them. They are your real children.
Because they helped you grow up.
Because you are your only real child.
Everthing else is self-sufficient.
Causal effect, sure.
But overall it's all surface.
The deep stuff remains inside, basically untouched unless you let it...
And to live it's gotta get shaken up sometimes.
But it always pools back in the center- like a mirrored lake of mercury.
Shiny, heavy, liquid. But heavily metallic and toxic if ingested.
But play with it anyway- because those of us about to die salute you.
Because we all are about to die. If you calculate in tree years.