Sometimes, it's not that hard to believe we're superhuman. It's those times we realize we can't lay on the ground screaming we can't do or take it anymore. It's the times where the predicament is strictly attached to something, or someone, we know that by any means, we cannot give up on. And in some of those times, we include ourselves too on that list, if we managed to still find a way to care.
Yes, our very own kryptonite stones.
It's an irony, but who cares anyway.
No one said that anything, let alone that big, could possibly come free, or cheap. The fear of falling is always around the corner. Restlessness is born with the logical thought that one day we might just wake up, look over our shoulders and the cape will be gone, no matter how tightly we get ourselves to wrap it around our skin so we'd be able to sleep. There's always an unbearable anticipation that if one more thing happens we'd just fall apart beyond repair, and the pressure will be released at once, the inevitable price we had to pay while trying to float.
But in desperation, costs are always of no issue. That is, if we were even able to see them ahead.
So we're up. Hell, maybe even running. We're in one piece, doing one thing, the one thing we risked it all for. We get up and we get through with the day, and on some occasions maybe think of that one day we get to breath like those ordinary humans in the picture on our wall, the ones we've long denied ourselves from. Just to inhale and exhale with nothing wrestling on end across the chest.
The day we let the cape carry us home, and we exchange goodbyes.
It's a tragedy, but who cares anyway?
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