Superheroes Do Bleed and Retire

Three days passed my eighth birthday and whilst facing the wall, scriptures materialized. As I study the writings, it says: anyone who can read this is destined to do great things. As I commit to memory the scenario then, the idea appeared on the wall as if someone, some being, wrote them in a creepy manner. And as I remember, I was diagnosed by my mom having overwhelming imagination syndrome.

When I reached high school, life has been busy. The world becomes larger. Love becomes surreal. Saving the world is just as hard as solving a physics problem. And I failed my physics subject. I found out that humanity will exist even if I wasn’t actually born.

Days passed, I am firm that I just wanted to be a sidekick of a superhero. And if a superhero landed in front of me and offered me to be his assistant, I’d probably say yes– if he will compensate me of at least above minimum pay excluded overtime.

Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana. No league of superheroes offered a sidekick position. I am just a normal human being walking the streets seeing faces of million normal human beings. And I am just like the others. Ordinary. Typical. Life bores me.

I planned my revenge, a dish served cold.

I created my own justice. I decided who to live and punished bad people. Well, I thought I was saving the world. I thought I am the good guy but it seems that I am on the wrong direction. And it simply shed a soft dusk, shadow in some small corner of my heart.

And the villain is born.

But every villain has one flaw. Because every villain has a conscience. But I wanted to be more evil-er. More monster-er. More darker. Just in the nick of time that this villain becomes super villain, a superhero, his dad, saved him.

And I realized I can’t save the world– but I can save one soul. And that is the moment that I wanted to become a father also. I wanted to raise a child and save someone just like what my dad did.