I was a superhero, once

I woke up this morning feeling restless. This doesn't happen much, considering the routines life seems to require. Exercise, stretch, eat, work, sleep, passion. But sometimes I wish I could just put all that aside for a day.

But then a day like that starts to happen, and I realize how little I want it. Layers of my past and promises unkept find their way to me, and I can't shake a deep nostalgia that makes me wonder when I grew up. When I started to take note of reality and subscribe to routine.

But the routine makes sense. It makes things easier to cope with.

Because I was once a superhero.

Every young boy (and likely every girl, but I've never been one, so I don't know) is the star of his own show, the hero of his own story. Every girl he meets, every field he enters, every new experience is undoubtedly destined to become just like the Saturday images we watched since we were too small to go outside.

But then the ending never happened. The plotlines didn't quite come together. I'm certain I almost saved the lives of millions, I almost became a star with a guitar in my hand, I almost became someone everyone looks up to. Someday has already gone by.

Time for routine.