I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
I'm just out to find
The better part of me
I'm more than a bird...I'm more than a plane
More than some pretty face beside a train
It's not easy to be me

I Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home I'll never see

It may sound absurd...but don't be naive
Even Heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed...but won't you concede
Even Heroes have the right to dream
It's not easy to be me

Up, up and away...away from me
It's all right...You can all sleep sound tonight
I'm not crazy...or anything…

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me

It's not easy to be me.

He lay on his living room floor. He didn't know what time it was but he had to at least lie for five hours there. When he came home from work today he didn't even bother to change into something. He pressed the bottom of his stereo system and this song began to play. He lay on the floor and since then this song kept playing. The CD had some kind of split and it kept playing on song again and again and again.

But that didn't concern him. He liked the song. Somehow it told exactly what he felt. Every one thought he had to be strong, being this big and intelligent. He wasn't allowed to show any emotion, to fear something or love something. He wanted to give up every thing.

Once he thought that he had reached something, that he could be proud of himself, that he found himself and the thing that brought joy in his life. But now he was at an end. He had had dreams, he had had cravings. He wanted something, wished for something.

He was alone. Everything he dreamt of went away. Everything he thought he had vanished. He had lost every thing. He didn't even know any more if there was a time he had something. It felt lie he was always alone, like he was on his own. His whole life.

Why could no one see what lay beneath him? Just because he was so big and strong didn't have to mean that he had to be fearless and full of strength. He had a right to be hurt, a right to cry, a right to bleed. Why couldn't any one see that he was more than this genius? He hated to be a genius.

If there was problem everyone always thought that he could solve it. But he didn't know every thing. There were things he didn't understand, things he worried about. He too needed help and people to love and love him back.

He couldn't do every thing. He wasn't strong all the time. He wasn't made of steel. He could feel punches, verbal and not verbal ones. He could bleed, he could have wounds and he could have scary.

A long time he wanted every one to think that he was strong and fearless. That he do every thing on his own. That he didn't need any help and that there was nothing he didn't know.

But now he knew that he couldn't be strong and fearless all the time. He couldn't do every thing on his own and he did need help. And there were a lot of things he didn't know.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. It was not easy to be like him. It was not easy being human. There were people who lived with such a routine that it was impossible to think that they lived their life for the first time.

He wished he could close his eyes forever. He didn't want to open them again. There was nothing in his life that would will him to wake up in the morning.

Eight years ago he found a thing that made him smile in the morning. When he went to bed at night he thought of being with her the next day. When he woke up he was happy, because he would see her. But this he lost too.

He destroyed his partnership with Eames. More important, he destroyed their friendship. She was the one who kept him alive and now she didn't care about him anymore. There was no reason to ever open his eyes again.