AN: This was a piece I wrote while trying to write an archetype paper about Gladiator.
For every man in this world, I would like to believe that I am just like him, that my deeds are the deeds of every man, that they would do the same as I, were their circumstances similar; for I can never take credit for that which I could not have accomplished alone.
For every man in this world, I would like to believe that each join me in this journey, that every man shares the same ideals and would choose the same path. No one can predict the majority's choice, the mob's choice; but I can fantasize they would rise above themselves despite expectations and do so anyway. In a world of hate, there must be some good somewhere, if only a small bit used in a little moment.
Can anyone realize the way things are achieved? To think that something so complex is the result of one simple emotion felt in a moment's impulse. I choose to believe that I might be fortunate to experience that emotion some day, that I might come to know why people make such rash decisions. A man who strives to be something more is a man worthy of life. Can we expect anything less of ourselves?
Perhaps it is necessary to add that these men we hear of, the heroes of legend, they are the substance that make us sit on the edge of our seat, hanging onto every last word. The feats of a lesser man can never achieve such glory; the feats of a lesser man do not take up so many words and such precious time. The feats of a lesser man are glanced over but for a moment and forgotten just as quickly.
One might exclaim that I speak, avoiding any real topic, by declaring such general outlandish ideas; but it is because he fears. One who speaks out and criticizes such philosophy do so because it is the only way they know how to respond. One who does not believe cannot ever grasp the mentality of a glorious man, for they are the lesser men that will not be remembered and cannot grasp their own worthlessness.
Is it possible to feel pity for these lesser men? Were I a better man I might respond yes, but my soul is awakened to the evils in this world, and I cannot grasp how any of us can afford to be so ignorant as they. I feel no pity for a blind heart.
The truth is a burden and I cannot look at the world the same ever again. That is my sole fault; to expect too much from the souls of men, to hope that society could rise above pettiness and self-induced strife. I too suffer from my own ignorance. I condemn those who cannot see the way I see now. In my heart of hearts, I cannot grasp the concept of arrogance in those who are ignorant. I cannot comprehend how it is that the stupidity of lesser men dominates over the feats of great men, men who are rare and few.
I do not explain all this for my own entertainment; no, I need no such lesson. I can only hope, only dream, that the few great men that experience this will hear their calling. For in a crowd of lesser men, where is the motivation to come to one's full potential? Had it not been for a foolish boy with rash judgement, I too might have remained a lesser man.
AN: There's a lot of implied things as well as hints of other things. But I enjoyed writing it.