Indestructible
"So here I am
Doing everything I can
Holding on to what I am
Pretending I'm a superman"
-"Superman", Goldfinger
I tried, I really did.
Things move too fast. Things go in this complicated circle that's almost impossible to follow. Fist beat down on you, and you don't even know it. You try to fight, to proof yourself, hide your weaknesses, but they always come back. And, oh my God, they bite you in the ass. Hard.
It was yesterday, and we were fighting. Mad Mod, if I remember correctly. Just...fighting. Kicking. Punching. Shooting...
Bang!
I was the only one who noticed it. Crude, low grade gun powder. Not Cyborg's, not Starfire, or Robin. Just a simple, metallic gun that was probably baught in the back of a trunk somewhere. I didn't really feel it until I tumbled from the fire escape, landing right beside a dumpster. It smelled like crap, and that was all I could think about. Then it set in, and it burned like I was being burned over a camp fire. The noise became background whispers, and then faded into nothing.
Now, I'm here, still beside the dumpster, still being burned. I don't know what I thought, what I believed, for this to be such a shock. I just know it is, and I really can't believe it.
I'm...not Superman. Yeah, that's a good moral to this pathetic little story. Only Superman's Superman. Everyone else is just human.
I'm human, and I'm not indestructible. That sucks.
Author's Note: Angst? Herr?
