My world seemed to stop as the question in my head played over and over like a broken record. Gasping for air, I leaned against the side of a building for support, as my legs felt like they would crumble into dust if I didn't.
I had to sit down somewhere and think, so I ran into the nearest bar. I ordered something big, with a lot of alcohol and then rested my face in my hands, trying to make sense of the situation. The question continued to repeat.
'What if my powers don't come back?'
Finally, I got enough courage to try and answer it. If my abilities truly were gone for good, that meant I couldn't be special anymore. I didn't want that to happen, I needed my powers. Without them I was, well, powerless! I was nothing.
Was I really nothing? I thought about that for a moment, taking a drink. What life did I have outside of my powers? None. Did I have hobbies, friends? No. Where would my future go now that I was, I hated thinking it, an average person? Nowhere. Nowhere at all.
I finished off my drink and ordered another one. What the hell was I going to do now? I could try to make a life as a regular person, but the thought of that monotony made my skin crawl. I couldn't build relationships with anyone; no one could possibly relate to me, understand me. I honestly couldn't picture myself learning to care about someone else and their trivial life.
The alcohol was making me feel better, though. Perhaps if I just drank myself into a stupor, the world would look better tomorrow. That seemed like a good idea at the time, so I continued to drink until last call. Then I went home and drank some more.
The next thing I knew I was blinking my eyes open after having passed out on the couch. It was noon, the eclipse had long since passed, and the feeling of dread at a powerless future had returned. I was not, however, going to sigh and give up on being special. Hoping and praying to every form of every god I could think of, I focused, watching my hand intently.
The skin on my fingertips began turn silver, and I nearly jumped for joy.
My abilities were back! Nothing was wrong, everything was fine, and my life would be the same as it ever was. I would collect more and more power, and that would make me happy. I was certain that would make me happy.
But my eyes had been opened, and I saw now that I was not happy. There was absolutely nothing about my life that caused me to enjoy my own existence. I was a junkie, and all that had ever mattered was the power. So I became a scavenger, stealing what I wanted. I could do whatever I wanted; I could be whoever I wanted. Still, I felt so lost. That wasn't special, it was pathetic.
I needed a drink. After the eclipse it seemed that I always needed a drink. And the more I drank, the more I had to drink. I suppose I have an addictive personality, and alcoholism was an easy trap for me to fall into. For the better part of three and a half months I was intoxicated, attempting futilely to forget my miserable life.
Don't think I spent the entire time drunk though. I tried, dear reader, I really did, to make friends, get a life, but I could never seem to get it together. I went out, met people, but they bored me. I was special, they were not. Frustrated after these failed attempts at finding a place among normal humans, I would go home night after night and crawl into the comfort of a bottle. I was really and truly a mess.