Kryptonite

Its not easy being different. It means that no one understands. No one can listen. Really listen. Especially when its something that everyone knows off. Its like the sun to us mortals versus the sun to a blood-sucking, fang-bearing creature of the night. Its like a haircut to the average guy versus a haircut to Samson. Its kryptonite. My kryptonite.

I know how to be strong. That’s how we were brought up. Be strong, they said. Don’t cry, they said. And so I didn’t.
I know how to be unmoving. Grounded firmly on cement-block values. There’s no going anywhere without them, and at no careless speed.
I know how to fly, to navigate shark-infested waters, to save the world in one blow. But.. but.

Even Superman wasn’t quite as super as he thought himself to be.
A rock. Imagine that! A simple rock brings him to his knees. Reduces him to less than a man, tormented by an unexplained pain.
Kryptonite. My weakness. My Achilles heel. My unraveling. My rock, and my hard place. My edge of sanity. My undoing. Mi corazón.

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