Doomsday is near, and I'm left figthing on my own for the entire human race. Instead of worrying about winning or losing, I'm asking myself "why me, and why now?" At the moment I should be focused on being my strongest, I'm too busy worried about whether or not I'll be able to handle the responibility of saving the world. At my moment of weakness I am thrown off the top of the Daily Planet where I lie comfy in my asphault bed. Then it hits me, everyone has earned, or deserved what they have even if its better or worse then others, and it's not my responsibility to save em'. I didn't ask for these "super powers" but I sure have the option to control them. My savior complex, is no longer a complex, it was a state of mind. Now its the past, and a dim memory. Then I awake from my dream, to find I wasn't so super after all, I was a reporter parading around in a pair of tights, a size too small. For some, their hero is a man in tights. For me, my hero stares back at me everyday and I ask nothing of him.
I quote everclear. I will buy you a new life
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