the heart-pumping bloodshed

[before i continue the previous post.]

beware: this is a painfully teenaged entry. But seeing as to how I am a teenager, and that I do have penchant for being cheesy..

an old question asks if it is better to have loved and lost, or if to have not loved at all. Like most of those age-old questions, this one has no clear answer, and an attempt to stick to either side will expose not just a big, fat bias, but also a slew of holes and fallacies. Maybe that's why so many people (myself included) are stuck in a state of suspension between the two choices. Indeed, when two choices so evidently press themselves to you, and impose great, great consequences (or lack thereof), it becomes a little bit more of a tolerable compromise to sit on the fence- even if it means having the ol' picket up your ass.

Of course, by the verb "love" I don't just mean the impulsive feeling of attraction and devotion that selfishly presents itself at the most awkward of moments. What I mean is the submission, the pathetic act of surrender that makes us break down our fortified walls right when the outsiders arm and aim their ballistics. I have no idea what could drive anyone to do such an act, or what rewards must promise themselves to influence such a decision- in fact, I such a lack of idea that it baffles me why I contemplate the action myself.

Searching for some sort of metaphor, I can only barely catch the tale of the Trojans. I'm sure we are more than aware of the famous Trojan Horse (and their counterpart, the trojan virus). *insert story of the trojans/trojan horse here*

Honestly, who in their right mind would think that such a large, hollow, wooden horse could be a sign of victory and pride? Didn't the horse smell like big, burly, sweaty warriors; or make weird noises whenever the trip back to town was turbulent? That should've tipped them off. Or better yet, how about that whole prophecy and "warning from the gods" to not spite them? You'd think that with so many poets writing about almost everything, the Greeks would've had some historians to tell them how history repeats/would repeat itself. But unto the point of my paralellism.

I propose the following: I think the very act of "lowering our defenses" and willingly letting something of the outside invade us is nothing but the biggest act of self-preserving egoism. Really, by lowering our defenses and being vulnerable, we offer the world two choices: either they second guess their own bravado (after all, this guy is willing to fight me with no defenses at all- who knows what power he has); or they continue on with the fight, thinking that they had just struck the most idiotic keeper. And in response, either we reap the benefits of the former, or we get burned by the latter (ay, there's the rub). But still, we're willing to risk the latter for the faint chance of the former. We don't always expect that horse to be full of burly, sweaty warriors, ready to decimate our very beings from the inside out. We just, you know, expect the outsiders to fall and cower in fear, be proud of our sensitive side and air our their own emotions while leaning on our big, broad, manly shoulders (oops, i think i lost the parallelism there).

Either that, or we can keep our walls (or make them higher, even) and impress the world with how bitchy, witty, smart, and independent we can be. To hell will those warriors- they can have hot oil poured on their heads as they try to scale my defenses. Nothing's touching this heart. Nope, let this heart stand tall, and proud, and secure. Let this heart stay hidden and immaculate. Let this heart be dug out from the sands of time hundreds of years later- untouched and unkown.


On a side note: imagine if the ancient greeks were more cautious and bloodlusty (is that a word?) and decided to urinate and burn the horse instead. Not nearly as glamorous, no?