Superhero

You know, so many people try to be a superhero.

Swooping down to an ailing friend's needs, helping siblings to solve their school life, patrolling to see if anyone needs a shoulder to cry on, confronting the villian of uncontrollable infidelity that's ruining your best friend, powering up into My Sassy Neighbour Patrica Mok and poke their noses into everyone's business.

And yet when they take off that superhero outfit and don the spectacles, everything goes back to normal. The person with the secret identity is trying to lead a normal life, have fun, make friends, maybe find that special someone and live till the national standard of 76. With it comes along the obstacles people face in their own lives everyday, the endless work, wrecked families, uncontrolled romantic affairs, impossible tasks, stress, pain, distress.

Superman doesn't let the people he save know that he has problems with Lois at the Daily Planet, nor does Spiderman cry to the old lady he just saved from the clutches of The Hobgoblin about how Mary Jane complained about his inability to commit his time into their relationship. And do you, for a moment, think that Wonder Woman will bitch about her husband not putting down the toilet seat?

We always seem so impregnable when someone asks for help. Offering soothing words and sound advises. Reverse the scenario onto themselves and they will crumble like a paper shell.

Sometimes I feel that I try too hard.

I mean, would the old granny I save bother to hear my problems?

Not a chance.

I'm back

Blowing away the dust to only weave a puff of speckled net in the cool autumn night, I settle back in my lazy chair and look at the words that lay in wait and I thought to myself, it's been a long time.