One Minute I Was A Superhero

You know that feeling when you’ve been forced to admit that you’re bored senseless with the wretched stupid banality of your own life and yet at the same time as knowing this you also know with absolute certainty that you’ll never have the moral courage to do anything about it? Do you know that feeling? Maybe you don’t. Maybe you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know in the past that when I’ve asked that very same question (or variants on it) people have posted snide comments to the effect that no, they don’t know that feeling and that had left me feeling like a total dick head but all the same I am compelled by something within me to ask the question yet again. Only to be left over-exposed and humiliated – one minute I was a god-like being, resplendent with auric rays of every colour and description, the next I was a whining pitiful cur of a man, whinging and complaining like a malignant weasel, refusing to take any responsibility whatsoever for the squalid mess of his own wretched life. Do you know that feeling you get when you have exhausted any possibility of evading the awareness of your cowardly and chronically avoidant one minute I was a superhero the next a terror-struck cringing shadow of a man sitting in the corner of a darkened room rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth telling his story to anyone who will stop to listen how it feels when you’ve been forced to admit that your own life is repellent and monstrous to you and when you tell someone they laugh out loud in your face because you’ve been over-exposed, pitilessly humiliated in the full glare of the public attention people looking the other way when they see you coming refusing to meet your eyes do you know that feeling do you know that feeling that feeling that feeling that feeling that feeling when you can’t bear to see the hideous senseless banal stupidity of your life and yet you can no longer wriggle out of seeing it one moment I was a god-like being basking in my near-infinite power the seven angelic gifts were mine the higher faculties were unlocked to me the dust had fallen from my eyes my shrunken eye-sockets my leathery grey tongue licking furtively at my dry cracked lips cringing and mewling like some kind of sick animal gnawing at my own flesh wishing to publicly humiliate myself further if only I could think of some way to do so people crossing to the other side of the street when they see  me coming a mixture of repugnance and outright horror on their faces you know that feeling when you




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