Superheroes

Inspiration has struck! Thanks to my sister yet again, but don’t tell her, and if you’re Rachel don’t read that…

Anyway, it’s getting to be a new season in my life. I’m going to be off and about on my own in… six or seven months. It may seem like a long time now, but whenever I lay down to go to sleep, I think about what happened during the day and time seems like it just flies by. I don’t know if eighteen year olds even get to say this yet, but in a big way I feel like I’ve wasted my years. I don’t have many lasting memories with any of my high school friends, at least not any good ones. I’ve never been a terribly social person, unless it was sneaking down to my sibling’s parties, but I was young and liked to hang out with the big kids who were “cool” to me back then. I think I lost perspective of “cool” a long time ago. “Cool” used to be someone who had nice sunglasses and a leather jacket, greased hair and a nice car. Now it’s some kid in prison because he shot a guy at school, or the kid who’s got a picture of some girl sucking him off taped up in his locker. I think in a lot of ways we all lost perspective.

Maybe that’s what America needs. That and some common sense. Yes, that was partially a Lewis Black reference; I have the CD, sue me. All the people that we idolized, singers, actors, athletes, and most anything in between… have they really stood up to be the paragons that we should be looking to admire? Brittney, Lohan, and Clemmings have all seem to fall through the cracks in those standards, and call me close minded if you will, but I don’t think rap artists, drugs, guns, and ‘bling’ are cool. It may be an old and cliché idea, but I think the reason I love comic books and fantasy are because of the heroes. The real ones. Not only are they handsome or beautiful as seems to be a requirement by modern society, but they actually have character. They fight, not for themselves, or for money, but for us. Selflessness. Kindness. Sacrifice. Generosity. Intelligence. They have an inner struggle, if it’s love, death, repentance, guilt, shame, or just the ideal of justice. It’s a beautifully woven tale in each drop of ink detailing a characters face.

I know I’m young, I do, but as I like to say, I have the body of an eighteen year old, the mind of a thirty year old, and the maturity of a five year old. Still, there’s an eloquence and a majesty in watching someone struggle. It’s beautiful to watch the tethers of life weigh down someone and seeing them, as an angel of sorts, use every effort to pull away. (In fact a gorgeous picture of that came into my mind, I’ll see if I can sketch it later.) And as I was saying in the beginning of this, I don’t know exactly where I’m going. Right now I’m a little worried about being forgotten by a few people, even though I was forced to stop communication with them, but I still wonder if they’ll remember me. I’ll be moving on in this dirtball we call Earth soon, and I can’t help but sit back and think that all I’ll ever amount to is what I’ve always feared I would, nothing. I want to do something, anything. I want my name to be talked about, and for once not in a negative manner. But… there’s just a part of me that says… are you up to it?

I’d say I am. I have a lot of things I could do something to be remembered by. Science, art, writing, math, you name it and I can probably do it. I don’t know, I guess right now, I’m just wishing I were a superhero.