When a man is overpowered by his weakness, he starts hating himself.
Wondering and pondering how it is that he became so out of control of his inner lion, or questioning the existence of the said lion.
Questions like that have no answers because the only way to find the answers is to dig deeper.
Digging deeper means unearthing and unfurling more ugliness, and that leads to more questions.
So, what does the average man do?
He looks and acts outward instead, and in that deceiving process, he finds a useless weapon masquerading as a nuclear bomb - cruelty.
Cruelty to other physically or mentally weak creatures.
Some snide comments directed at a begging child.
A hot, resounding slap at his wife.
A heavy kick at an old dog.
A mean comment about a friend's insecurity.
It may look like he is a serious man who isn't an entertainer of nonsense, a strong man, for weakness is a cunning creature; it appears as strength in its infant days.
When all its limbs are grown and its frame has taken shape, that is when, like a snake that has had its skin shed, we see the real monster in its notoriety and danger.
Why go through all the trouble? Having to endure the entire metamorphosis of a butterfly only to find himself where he had started.
Cruelty is a cheap bastard; it doesn't want to pay the debt owed by the ego that is the manufacturer of confidence, so it resorts to counterfeit bravery, the kind of strength that is built on mud. The problem with such strengths is their fear towards floods, were it to descend upon the terrain, everything will be washed up, and the only thing left standing by morning will be the eternal disdain over stupid acts that could have been avoided otherwise.
There are shortcuts in life, but not in the matter of silent confidence. It demands multiple avenues working together: belief, actions, thoughts, and agency.
Sometimes, depending on where we are on the self-loathing spectrum, we hate those who remind us of our vulnerable parts because we are afraid that cozying up to them might undo all that we have done to evade them.
But we can't run from ourselves, everything we have ever been, even for a second leaves precipitates of themselves in us. We only have to use them as armour, like those diseases which can't affect us anymore once we have been sickened by them. Like an antidote or a vaccine.
That is making peace with all parts of ourselves, dark or otherwise. When you're friends with your demons, nothing can catch you off guard, as you are monitoring their steps. Keep your enemies closer, it has been insisted time and again.
And then... something is born.
Empathy.
It is only the strong who have the capacity to be empathetic. That surreal understanding that you can do great harm but choose not to. That's real power.
Mercy is worth more if you had the means to instill great harm, but chose to be merciful nonetheless.
A genuine smile for a begging baby.
Kind eyes to the wife when a logical slap would have sufficed.
An animated whistle to an old dog.
A pat on the shoulder to an insecure friend.
A more fulfilling life, a life that cashes out on softness rather than bruteness.
A life built on a rock that is a healthy conscience.
A life that has conquered cruelty.
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