I laugh as I sit in a wooden cabin holding a cup of hot chocolate with a hubristic smile. I mock death, saying it’ll be beneath me now I’m immune, immortal. I was free of fears, I’ve done things people only dreamt of. I loved the life of dreams, but ofc it all had to come an end.

I hear a knock on my door, I didn’t think anyone was enough of a fool to come out here especially during the time of winter, but nevertheless I opened the door and saw my favorite person: the grim reaper. The big man himself. I honestly wanted to slam the door on his face, open it and then laugh at him but I felt nice and allowed him in.

his Eire presence should be enough to strike fear into even the most powerful men but I just had a smirk, a hubristic smirk. His face was covered like always, rolling my eyes I asked.

”so death what did you come here for? You just be obsessed with getting beat by me over and over again.”

death stayed silent, I rolled my eyes again and looked at him.

”your going to say something or what?”

”….your soul is withering.”

I sigh and repeat death with a mocking tone.

”uh huh yea once that happens give me the coin and I’ll get another life back.”

”you only live because your soul still exist, once it’s gone. So are you and the coin won’t be able to bring you back.”

I take this as just death pitiful attempt to scare me into giving up and finally accepting my place beyond the physical world. Ofc I just laugh, crying a bit from laughing so hard.

”omg! Good joke! Good joke death, idk why you ain’t a clown you got the jokes for jt.”

death then showed me my soul, and it was broken. Pieces of it gone and it twitching. I immediately got scared.

”make peace with yourself, for you will be seeing me for eternity by the end of the day.”

(The end….

the mental toll, I don’t think I can take it anymore. I got these powers just seemingly yesterday, despite the actual timing being months ago. I feel as this duality of gaslighting is bring me down. The public thinks I’m useless and the others think I’m a janitor…I don’t know. Walking along this sideway on a dark night, my head down; my hoodie up. I feel as if I just trapped myself, it hurts but I cling on to the hope of change. One day I may become better.

I have my doubts, my insecurities. Regardless how much I lie to myself, I feel as if…no one really cares. I saw my powers as a gift but now I’m just a tool……a…just…I don’t know actually and that’s what makes me scared. I don’t know what I am anymore: a hero? A tool? A handicap? Something for the public to keep their eyes on so the others can get away with everything. I care about human life, and I want to save others in the best way I can….I hope change is what they truly say; inevitable, if not.

Then why am I a hero?