I am a super-hero in my own mind, wearing the uniform of a god.

In reality, I wash myself with a rag-on-a-stick and comb my limp hair over my receding hairline to try and hide the fact that I'm balding at thirty. I am cursed by my gender. When I go to Wal-Mart I ride the curtsey motorized wheelchair because I'm too unmotivated to walk and when I leave I don't even return it to it's parking spot. When something is given to me for free I still find a reason to complain, and I often feel SO BETRAYED by the world and more importantly by the people that I thought where my friends, because no one understands me.

I find my deepest motivation is that I can come and post on the internet about the things that I hate. Because when I'm able to post about it, at least someone will hear me scream.