Pressure. It's a funny thing.
Some people accomplish amazing things while under pressure. Some of the greatest ideas of mankind were made under the heat of fire. Life changing feats accomplished by the world's greatest minds as the weight of the world hung on their shoulders. Others collapse under pressure, even the smallest hints. They can't recover from the falling world around them and become buried underneath, suffocated and defeated.
I guess that is one of the things that separate great men from the average. The ability to excel under the most frightening, the most nerve wracking situations that cruel fate can throw your way. The ones that come out on top, placing a waving flag of victory in the wreckage of life accomplish great things. The ones that can't find their way back to the top stay buried under the wreckage and pray that things will become better, that they will be rescued.
Pressure is something I'm very familiar with. It is constantly there, on my shoulders, threatening to bury me alive. I suppose it is there for all of my brothers. They all have the things in their lives that test them, some have more than others. But sometimes I feel like I have it a little bit worse.
We are constantly in danger, my family and I. We are always fighting dangerous foes, some worse than others. We do it because we must, because it was what we were raised to do. To protect people. The very people we hide from. Injuries are a given in our lives of fighting, of sacrifice.
I suppose that is where Leonardo's greatest pressures in life begin to materialize. Leo is our leader, and in part he feels it is his duty to be our protector. I see it in his eyes, every time we leave the relative safety of our lair, the pressure on his shoulders to keep us all safe and away from harm, no matter what we face, at all costs.
Raphael is similar, though very different. His biggest pressure is justice. Bring justice to those who are hurt and feed it to the thugs that deliver the pain. Raphael feels that pressure every time he hears another murder report on the morning news, or every time a criminal gets away. I suppose that is what keeps driving him to the surface every night to "bust heads" with Casey, as he says.
Mikey, bless him. His greatest pressure is to keep us happy and laughing. He puts it upon himself to keep us from surrendering to the darkest parts of ourselves. Whenever he sees one of us struggling he feels a slight pressure on his shoulders to make everything better. I know he feels pressure because every time there is a failed attempt at a light hearted joke, I see his shoulders slump slightly. Oh yes, Mikey feels pressure too.
But mine?
"No! Oh, God, he's hurt!"
Mine comes after. After the scouting, after the jokes, after the fighting, after the justice. My abilities, the God given mind I was born with, it leaves me with one of the greatest pressures of all.
"Donny? Donny hurry, he's hurt!"
My pressures test my very inner strength. Mine encompass all of the same pressures of my brothers, and then some.
"My God, there's blood everywhere! Donny what do we do?"
The ability to work under my pressures depends upon my ability to keep a clear head under the greatest of all pressures. They look to me to fix it all. The blood, the sickness, the aftermath. My knowledge leaves me the only one capable of giving it a real shot, and they look at me expectantly, look at me to save the day. Every second that ticks by works against me and time becomes my very enemy. They know I am the only one who can help them.
"Donny, you have to do something…"
How do you keep a clear head when your world is collapsing down all around you? How are you able to accomplish your goal when you know the ultimate cost of not succeeding? How do you become a pillar of strength for the rest of your frightened family when you feel like you could crumble with the fear and grief of your failure at any moment?
"Donny, the blood is still coming. Where should we take him? What can we do?"
I guess that is what separates the great from the average. The boys from the men. The ability to work under the world's greatest pressures. I have the world's greatest pressure, to keep my family alive. In the aftermath of it all, when everything that could go wrong does, my pressure is to keep us going, to make sure that whoever is down will rise once again. My ability to succeed depends on my ability to think, to work, to heal, to save. My greatest fear is that someday I will fail. Some of the greatest accomplishments of mankind were done with the pressure of the world on their shoulders. Will I be one of the great? Will I fail and be buried?
"Donny…help him…"
Pressure. It's a funny thing.