Superhero

I am too slow for being a superhero.

I have thought about it. Sometimes I lie in bed and imagine that I turn into any of those characters that Hollywood has magnified based on comics, most of them valuable objects for collectors. But I lack of material. I don´t have the attributes to become into he who lives life saving the Universe. But Osvalditín, my friend´s son, wants me to become a superhero from time to time. He is five years old. He has no idea of how is the world outside, how rotten and screwed it is. He still holds the innocent illusion that superheroes exist, but he doesn´t know me enough so as to perceive I am some guy whose only virtue is precisely not having any. A superhero who respects himself has two lives: the one when he is a common guy, a bit shy, a gifted or a millionaire, and the other when he disguises and goes out to save the world. I can´t be a superhero, but I cannot even be his alter ego. Osvalditín wants me to be Batman but I can´t be Bruce Wayne. He wants me to be Spiderman but I can´t be Peter Parker. He wants me to be Hulk but I can´t be Bruce Banner. One day he will discover I am just a poor copy of the sum of all the characters in the books I have read. Actually, the sum of all the defects of the characters in the books I have read. Jean Valjean looking for redemption and running away eternally. Ambitious and hypocrite like Julien Sorel. Cold and selfish like Valmont, yet exposed to love. As Grenouille, going unnoticed, only loved for something I don´t really have. Castrated like Cuéllar. Sceptical and without repentance for my actions like Mersault. Devoured by ants like the last of the Buendía´s cast.

I am too lazy for being a superhero. If one day it would be imminent and I had to save your life, I might leave it for another day.