This is hard for me to admit, but stories that involve self-sacrifice make me weep like a toddler. The act hits me in the soul as I try to stop the tears, or turn my head slightly away from my date so they fall down the opposite side of my face. But I’m not fooling anyone.

Pixar is guilty of this on a near yearly basis. Ditto Spartans on a suicide mission, Clint Eastwood in about half of his films, the list goes on. If a movie or book has a dog in it, it’s pretty much guaranteed I’ll have to pretend I have allergies at some point.

I try to man up, remain stoic, but damnit, Bruce Willis is going to die for us! All of us! I hate you Michael Bay! Why are you doing this to me?

Ahem. Excuse me. I totally did not cry during Armageddon. That never happened. Shut up.

This sort of sacrifice is used enough that I should be able to cope. People get desensitized and tropes fall out of favor all the time. But self-sacrifice hasn’t because it reflects some of our greatest fears. We fear death, we fear letting the people we love down, we ultimately fear that we are cowards and that we might not have the right stuff to fight for our friends.

This is why it affects me so much. I’m afraid that my story would end as another bystander instead of the stoic champion. That I’m not courageous or brave or even just capable of a love that strong. If that moment ever does come I hope I have the will to stand. I hope that my will is stronger than my fear.

The truth is, I’ll probably never be tested like this. But you don’t have to bleed for others to be their champion, you just have to give. Spend your time in service, both to your friends and to the work that gives you meaning. You’ll find that neither require perfection, only the honest efforts of your hands and heart.

—

Tony Southcotte hails from the Rocky Mountains somewhere around the state of Colorado. Possibly raised by grizzly bears, this gritty denizen of the arena now spends most of his time grappling with Java updates and dysfunctional RAM. With not much fiction under his belt, it might seem tempting to bet against Mister Southcotte, but an impressive knowledge of everything from PVC pipe to psychedelic drugs makes Tony a storehouse of fiction waiting to hit the paper. Plus, you know, there’s the possibility of him ripping you apart like a grizzly bear.