Keep the Faith

He couldn’t fly. He hated when people told him that he could. Treated him like he could soar high into the sky, swooping down, and picking them up as they fell. Like he was the Superhero everyone wished they could have, the person everyone knew existed – that they just hadn’t found him yet.

He hated when people thought he was invincible, when people thought he didn’t hurt, that he didn’t ever fall into that bottomless pit, and hit hard, with nothing there to save him. He wasn’t that naïve, he knew Superhero’s didn’t exist.

Maybe that was the reason he loved his comics, so.

Because at least they could fly. Or be invincible.

He loved his fans, he loved his job, he loved it all. But that one part. The one part, where everyone stood him up on that pedestal, and cheered him on, and told him day in and day out he was what kept them alive.

But when everything crashed, it all changed. He wasn’t allowed to bleed, they said. He wasn’t allowed to have a breakdown here and there, make mistakes, fuck it up a bit. He was supposed to keep flying, keep going.

No. No. It didn’t work that way.

Apparently, he wasn’t human. He didn’t make mistakes.

It wasn’t easy to be him. People just didn’t know that half of it. They didn’t understand that he was scared to show the real him.

He wasn’t Superman. He wasn’t naïve, he wasn't meant to rise above the clouds, he wasn’t meant to be that important. He couldn’t fly.

But oh, how he wished he could.