Desperate Measures

Forgive the extended metaphor and cliche. In video games, fighting games to be more specific, the last ditch effort to salvage a terrible round is always the desperation move. Unblockable, powerful, and only requiring the little strength you have left, these measures ensure you have a fighting chance. They bring down the opponent's enormous advantage to a manageable size, and assuming you have enough strength left, allow a victory that, just a couple of moments ago, seemed impossible.

All's fair... You know how the cliche goes.

I’d like to believe in a newfound weapon I could soon be brandishing. More than this, I’d like to believe I can apply it properly. I’ve just witnessed (or read rather) its potent power; not from press releases but straight from the mouths of its hapless victims. (Well, not really. They fall into the trap willingly.) Next to seeing drifting in real life, the effects are truly awe inspiring, heavily depending, of course, on circumstances similar to mine.

Perhaps the debate is not a matter of application but more on its moral weights. Indeed, the primary prerequisite is losing your old self and donning a new mask. But there’s still the very Hollywood Superman / Clark Kent complex – a question of who they’re really infatuated with. The purveyor or this new found philosophy says that these laws are ingrained in each of the psyches of the enemy; that though the numbers are in our favor, it’s still an uphill battle. Does that justify the charade then? Perhaps it’s more a matter of pride and my unwillingness to accept the fact that who I am isn’t good enough.

It all boils down to what I’m willing to live with; honest misery, or a sweet white puffy lie. All know that the former has tried but to no avail. Is the latter, then, a worthy sacrifice?

At times I’ve embraced the Machiavellian way. Sometimes, though, I still pause to think if honesty still has value in this day and age. Life Down from the Hill has already proven it a bogus hypothesis. Selling out is suddenly profitable.

Or perhaps I’m still wishing things turned out my way, instead.