That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.

Tolkien was an absolute wonder. And his ability to breath life into tortured characters has been a characteristic of his work that has always spoke to me.

Growing up, this scene always brought me to tears, but it wasn't until I read The Lord of the Rings that it really spoke to me on a personal note. Sam and Frodo's friendship - if you could even give their kinship such a lukewarm word - went beyond any emotional bond that I can even relate to in this world, and it is this kinship that fuels such an emotional response in me. These are two souls that have journeyed to the end of this world together. Through every terror imaginable they have climbed hand-in-hand, sleeping in one another's laps, nursing wounds - both physical and beyond.

Sam's Speech occurs in both the books and movies before the worst of their journey, which is still unbelievable considering how much hurt and suffering they have already endured by this point. Despite all of the unimaginable horrors they have witnessed, and are actually in the middle of during this passage, Sam finds the one ray of light shining through the clouds. He grabs hold of it and hands it to Frodo, who is starting to slip below the waves of pain washing over them. With tears in his eyes and sorrow gripping his throat he pours these words over a hopeless Frodo. Sam takes what remaining courage and love he has and wraps Frodo in it - pulling him to his sore feet and guiding him, despite the rocky path they are stumbling down.

And it's not just Frodo that Sam is saving - it's me too.

I suffer too. Not nearly to the degree that Frodo did, but enough. Enough to make getting out of bed hard. Enough to make me question my existence in this world. Enough to make me not like who it is that I see every day.

The words in this convince me that I'll wake up one day and not feel an anchor dragging behind me. Sam's words give me hope that one day it'll be worth pulling myself out of bed every day. That one day I'll know why I exist in this world and it'll put into perspective every single day that I chose to keep putting one foot in front of the other despite how much it hurts.

"Folks in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn't. Because they were holding onto something."

I'm holding on. Some days it feels like I'm clenched onto a rope of fire. It burns my hands and scorches my skin - it hurts. But at the end of it are all the things I want from my short, small life, so I have to hold on with everything I have; down to the last nerve, the last layer of flesh on my tightly coiled fingers.

Because I want to believe that my life is like one of those great stories, the ones that really mattered.