I don’t care if it hurts, I want to have control. I want a perfect body – I want a perfect soul.
I want you to notice when I’m not around. You’re so fucking special. I wish I was special/But I’m a creep/I’m a weirdo/What the hell am I doing here? – Radio Head.
When I was a boy I dreamed of flying. I don’t mean flying as in ‘flying an airplane” (do vipers count?) but flying – as in flying. Like Superman–flying; arms outstretched; hands balled up into fists of power; gliding and skipping along rooftops.
Ah yes – those bullies on the playground would come after me, but I would just leap into the air with such grace that even Jennifer Resnick would take notice.
I knew that if I could just be special – really truly special – she would love me and make my 10 year old life complete.
(and I’d be able to pass fifth grade math)
But nobody gets to be that special.
Hell, I remember the church I went to had these ‘prayer request’ boxes on the back of the pews. The idea was, you would write on the pad of yellow paper your “prayer request” then drop that request into the collection plate.
Yup. I did it. I asked Jesus to give me “super powers”.
Centurions, your standing orders are to see Morgan “Supersize Me” Spurlock’s documentary “Confessions of a Superhero”. ASAP.
Better yet, purchase it at Amazon through RedEye Rogue!
That’s all I’m sayin’ on it.
Just get this damn movie.
Or at least watch the trailer:
by your command