“The monster is only ever soft when they are finally vulnerable, no longer feared, and once more, able to protect another whom the beast did love.”– Modern Romanticism
The concept of the “Beauty and the Beast” is one to represent what is seen to be weak, from what is seen to be strong. A man, one to be strong, is also considered to be a beast. To himself, most frequently, is this how he convinces himself all wrongs are upon his shoulders. As it is, men and women feel their guilt in two separate scenarios. Men, with their guilt, feel it for actions having been committed. Women, for their guilt, feel it for the actions not committed. If this were not the objective case, then no movement would attempt to empower a woman, like some form of battery, long-lasting enough so that eternal protection is unneeded. For it would be that from a man to a woman, his protection in making himself vulnerable before her, to conceal her from danger, is the notion of eternal love that does not die. To a man, of his true nature, nothing beautiful can die to his eyes, while she still breathes.
If a man feels guilt for actions committed, then it would be to the final act of suicide that erases all his guilt, erases his past, erases the loneliness that kept him in the darkness.
A man, a beast, or a man of his actions, makes him most noticeable for what is committed in the world. Especially by suicide, when to the opposite of guilt, being of shame, is poured upon him. To that extent, his vulnerability is kept in a state of loneliness. For how can the strongest people of this world ever feel worthwhile when vulnerable, in the condition of loving another, when such a weakness is shared as a solitary feast?
A man who commits suicide, was a man who felt it a serious necessity. No hope is left for those whose loneliness is kept with the seemingly eternal vulnerability upon the simple self. When shared only with the self, it becomes a hollowness. For a man is only able to weep, when he shows the vulnerability of what is lost. Is it a man’s duty to love, or is it a man’s duty to betray, to destroy, to break what is beautiful? If a woman is ever beautiful to a man, he only says so because he could protect no one else, keep no one else alive, and share the most precious moments that only she would ever hold meaning for.
To end one’s own life with seriousness, was only ever through the realization that hope, kept in the long rivers of love, is gone. A love is gone. She is gone. To a true man, a woman is what allows him to break his own ambitions. All ambitions, are now of her. All happiness he feels, is of her. Whatever empires he created, are now hers. Her presence among his own fortress, is as much of a protection as for herself. To lose all of that, is to lose himself.