Chris Eubank, the legendary boxer, once said that as a fighter, you’re not allowed to be normal. You could be inches from pissing yourself, shitting yourself, even dying. And no one will stop the fight. The crowd demands a show.

This is life. And let’s get one thing straight—pleading for pity or showing "weakness" is not the same as vulnerability. Vulnerability isn’t weakness. There’s a distinct difference, and anyone who’s ever stood alone to face their fears knows it. Eubank puts it bluntly: “What is this feeling of sorry for fighters when they get hurt? You’re supposed to get hurt.”

When the bouts are behind us, we don’t flaunt the trophies or belts. No. We show the scars, the bruises. Those are the real badges of honour, proof that we took the hits. We stood on the rocks, took the beating from life’s crashing waves, and accepted it all with grace. That’s what makes us a superior cut from the cloth.

In the end, it’s life’s failures, tragedies, mistakes, and faults that carve us into something fine, fit for royalty. Because that’s exactly what we are.