A real man doesn’t bend the knee, Atlas

Go on son! Dust your shoulders off — broad, not sloping.
Exhibit that smooth, gallant grin, as words intent for hurt ricochet off asbestos flesh, like the raging waves that fail against hardened rock.
A real man with stones knows not erosion, only composure.
Atlas may kneel beneath the weight of the world, but you my son; you must stand tall! Tall enough for the face of danger to be so far beneath you that you no longer need to meet its meagre gaze — flight is for the winged fairies that lack the brawn to fight, and fight you shall!
Fight back the tears, as a mighty dam holds the weeping river at bay — resolute, abiding. Suppress such moist and maiden weakness and leave the bleeding to the lesser that are bound to do as such, for you were born for bigger and better things; you are a man!
And then came the depression…slowly inching through the veins of my supposed equanimity, contradicting the very essence of my birthright: masculinity. If I wasn’t designed to be vulnerable, then why does empathy rob me of my adamance? A question that plagued me, long enough to drive me to the brink of exhaustion.
It beat me down so deep, that just as I was about to shake hands with the devil I realised what it actually meant to get a grip: Before you can truly grab a hold of something, first you must flex your fingers and actualise the full potential of your dexterity. Flare your hand as though curving your fingers around the sun and form a fist — then punch a hole through the page on which your masculinity was fabricated and let the floods come.
Bathe in the warmth of your well-earned tears and embrace what it actually means to be a man: A man that knows how to fall in love, and when to let go. A man that is man enough to be honest with himself and realise that genuine strength is born from accepting susceptibility…A man that understands that the true scale of his masculinity is measured not by his capacity to hold back the tears; but by the amount of men he can knock out after laughing at him for crying.
