Am I yet?
I have began to wonder alot about a particular question. Am I yet a man? What constitutes it? What makes you "within the state of being a man." I have always called myself one, especially when pressed. I have without a doubt refered to it as a mark of progress or a statement of my status, as though " man " means " freed and unabated adult." However, do I really have the right to call myself anything more than a boy. I have thought on this greatly.
I may be able to out drink most men, out match a good deal in hand to hand, out shoot most all of them, and out wit a few, but is that what a man is? Skilled and proficient in manly things? Who can say? In the eyes of a few women I am surely not a man, having disappointed them in some way, or perhaps lacking something that would make me a superior specimen of the the opposite gender.
To be a man at one point in time, was to be the sole protector of a family unit, to be one of many strong and ferocious creatures all competing for the best mate, the best food and the best shelter. Later being a man meant that you could provide, or were skilled and have in your possession the knowledge of the carnal arts with the utmost skill to use them. Now what is a man, a being that neither protects with certainty any particular thing, nor is a man marked by what he can provide, and being skilled in any particular thing just seems to be something that stands on paper.
If someone called you a man, in some time long gone it meant almost the same as hero, but now it can a title given to a male, then most easily stripped of him by a woman all the same. If out matched by another man, the same fate still lies. It would seem that no one is a man, save those to stubborn to be belittled or insulted. Only old age can bring such an unstrippable title.
So that being said, as I am no old man, nor still a young and innocent boy, what am I?
Me myself, I would say with a great deal of thought, that I am in fact nothing. A ghost at best, bungling important or crucial moments with my vices, and being courtious and tempered when tis uncalled for. I can neither satisfy nor provide and am incapable in this day and age of heroism, so I am most truly nothing.
Perhaps to be nothing at all is to be more than a man. Bullets striking through nothing pass on until they strike something solid and real, bullets kill men. If I am nothing perhaps I am invulnerable. Being nothing would mean that I cannot lack as I am already the epitome of the devoid, so in an optomistic light I have all to gain.
I wonder how others would take what I say. Perhaps when someone wishes me a challenge, I shall reply that I am nothing, and there is nothing they can do to change it. Being nothing might in fact make me one bad son of a bitch.
I may be able to out drink most men, out match a good deal in hand to hand, out shoot most all of them, and out wit a few, but is that what a man is? Skilled and proficient in manly things? Who can say? In the eyes of a few women I am surely not a man, having disappointed them in some way, or perhaps lacking something that would make me a superior specimen of the the opposite gender.
To be a man at one point in time, was to be the sole protector of a family unit, to be one of many strong and ferocious creatures all competing for the best mate, the best food and the best shelter. Later being a man meant that you could provide, or were skilled and have in your possession the knowledge of the carnal arts with the utmost skill to use them. Now what is a man, a being that neither protects with certainty any particular thing, nor is a man marked by what he can provide, and being skilled in any particular thing just seems to be something that stands on paper.
If someone called you a man, in some time long gone it meant almost the same as hero, but now it can a title given to a male, then most easily stripped of him by a woman all the same. If out matched by another man, the same fate still lies. It would seem that no one is a man, save those to stubborn to be belittled or insulted. Only old age can bring such an unstrippable title.
So that being said, as I am no old man, nor still a young and innocent boy, what am I?
Me myself, I would say with a great deal of thought, that I am in fact nothing. A ghost at best, bungling important or crucial moments with my vices, and being courtious and tempered when tis uncalled for. I can neither satisfy nor provide and am incapable in this day and age of heroism, so I am most truly nothing.
Perhaps to be nothing at all is to be more than a man. Bullets striking through nothing pass on until they strike something solid and real, bullets kill men. If I am nothing perhaps I am invulnerable. Being nothing would mean that I cannot lack as I am already the epitome of the devoid, so in an optomistic light I have all to gain.
I wonder how others would take what I say. Perhaps when someone wishes me a challenge, I shall reply that I am nothing, and there is nothing they can do to change it. Being nothing might in fact make me one bad son of a bitch.