It revolves itself around matters that does not matter at all, and all it does is scream its name to beyond, hoping to find an answer to this already dead planes that consists of nothing but walking blobs of blood tissues with a hint of intelligence embedded into their little brains.
If there is ever a superhero that my life can be compared to, it would be the Silver Surfer. Destined to have certain talents but will never be able to fully use it. To want to be wanted but cursed to eternal cosmic loneliness with himself, allying to others only when needed. Taking the trouble to be a hero for others but never getting the credit he deserves. It seemed inevitable that people would alienate him; he had a silver cosmic surfboard, his skin is silver and he is from a planet eons away from Earth.
But what about me?
What about me, a human, made with flesh and bones, with the same brain as a normal human would? Why am I being ostracized from society? How, exactly am I different from any one of you?
Being a human is such a chore. To satisfy others and wanting to be satisfied. I wonder what the Silver Surfer would do if he was to exist. Would he stab corporate villains in their hearts and slaughter religious abusers? Would he become a hero and be worshiped by millions of humans in this pathetic world we call home? Would he raise hell in general and leave no one alive?
I would not know, because after all, I am just a human.
Just.
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