Past. Present. Future. However, redundant it may seem to society in general especially in today's world, some people just want to make the same mistakes all over again. I thought this as I looked out the window of a moving train. All the places, houses, stores had gone by within the blink of an eye, almost as if they were irrelevant to begin. I looked at the Tribune newspaper in my hand and read the headline again with disgust. I made a mental note to throw it away at the first trash bin I saw. My mom had called to tell me if I was okay. Why wouldn't I be? Nothing has happened to me. Friends and family often stated that something would happen that would make change my life dramatically. At least not yet. Right now, my mom's call had only heightened my depression.

I tried to put off today's troubles by looking around the interior of the train instead. Absentmindedly, I tried to forget that I lived in a depressing world by looking at the people on the train. Some looked entertained by whatever reason and some looked as if they had better days. I knew it was wrong for me to eavesdrop but nothing felt better than to listen to someone talk about a good day. I don't remember my last good day. Must have been a while ago. Moving myself toward the door, I caught two university students who looked as if they were going home. They had smiles on their faces. Surely, something positive had happened to one of them. I made my way over to them. But kept to myself as I wanted my presence not to bother them.

"My professor is all like if we want to change the world, we gotta change-" the boy began saying and immediately I walked away.

I almost shook my head. Lately I had been hearing nothing but encouraging words all my life that weren't really encouraging to begin with. All those words were good for were for bumper stickers, in my opinion. They had not helped me. It was pointless to listen further. I was even more miserable than ever. Don't get me wrong, I would give anything to be any of those happy people sitting there, oblivious even for a few hours, about politics and societal problems.

I knew deep down that it was stupid of what I was going to do. I had to. It was the equivalent of an ecstasy drug activated only in my mind. What I was about to think made me feel better even if it was for a few seconds. But in my mind, I envisioned myself changing everything. A superhero. It was a ridiculous notion indeed but imagining myself as saving lives could make people do a double take. If I could fly, it would make media headway, If I threw a car would one hand, I would be in a public debate, and If I could run really fast, I would be on a reality TV show. In other words, people would think differently if there really was a savior in today's world.

The reason I thought about this was because of the headline that read in my newspaper I had in my hand.


The implication was that people of the highest authority always assume that whatever they did was done in good intentions even if they were bad to begin with. It was what made me think of me becoming some sort of Man of Steel and telling the corrupt politician why he did such a thing.

Fantasy from reality was a never-ending concept but not an actual one. We do not live in a world of endless possibilities. I was one of the ones who saw the world as a field of endless inconsistencies. But no, having such abilities was non-existent in today's time and in today's world. I realize this as I was thrust back into reality as the train arrived at the station and all the doors to the compartments mechanically opened. I wasn't anything indestructible anymore. I was a mere weakling again.

People in my life and when I mean people I mean friends and family. They would often state time and time again that I was living in a fantasy world and that I should work really hard to get where I really needed to be. I did think heavily on what they did based on my unique attributes: double jointed, myopic in my right eye, a babyish face, green eyes, white for someone of my race, and able to memorize numbers and phrases from certain movies. Yet, all of it meant squat. I did wish I was like other people as well. They were so popular and had everything they wanted.

That was when I called my mom. I often make it a habit to make people everywhere see me as if I was somebody important. In other words, if they're talking on phones, they must be important and I wanted to be the same way. It was pointless however, asking my mom a question I already knew the question to but my disguise had to be placed. It annoyed me to hear my mom telling me to be okay at the end of the conversation. Nothing ever happened to me. I put the phone to my ear as soon as it started ringing.

"Hey mom? It's me. What are you making for dinner?" I asked. I frowned as I saw the people in front of me stopped and they turned to look at something behind them. I ignored them and tried to move on.

"Well I'm making..." My mom's voice began to say.

I never heard my mom completing her sentence for the next thing I knew, I was feeling faint, I was seeing everything in static-like form, my breathing was elevated and I heard people screaming. My senses added up and yet nothing could tell me why I was feeling as if I was being drained. I never even knew how I hit the ground. I was panting as if I had ran a mile. Gunshots were heard and I could tell from people who I could tell were police officers by the tones of their voices.

"We got 'im! Stay down!" the voices shouted.

What made my nerves spike higher was a random woman shrieking. "He's bleeding! He's bleeding! Call an ambulance!" I never knew if it was from the same random woman or if it was from another young woman. Either way, the fact that some people cared was astonishing to me. I had no other alternative but to cry out. I couldn't see anymore and I barely moved. When I did move, my hand shook over a pool of liquid that was near me. It was at this point that I rationalized that I was dying.

In movies, I often pretended to be the hero and even then at some point in the film, the protagonist gets shot, but now I knew that those actors probably never really experienced what I was feeling. It was a wake-up call. Fantasy does not exist. My other hand made its way to the phone that was now going into 'no dial tone' mode. My mom. Even at my age, I was accustomed to calling her 'mommy'. Now I needed her, now more than ever. It had gotten ironic for me.

My mind was still active at this final point. I was thinking 'Let me go to heaven. Please, let me go to heaven. I may not have lived up to my parent's and friends' expectations but I never did anything bad to nobody. " I stopped thinking and now the only thing I could make out now was hearing the gunshot...even after I was shot.

End of Part 1