In Continuum.

Finding Kryptonite



I can’t stand to fly
I’m not that naive
I’m just out to find
The better part of me

Something came over conversation, a sudden silence. It was a hesitation, not rooted by doubt but by thoughts. She was formulating her answer as the silence dragged on, and I thought it was only condescending when she said it at the very end. But it wasn't, sure assured, she was only thinking. "You think I am immature?" I asked over dinner that night. "No," she replied after a long pause. "You just want to be a superhero."

It must be tough being Superman, constantly in need to find a phone booth to tear his working clothes apart to save the world. I wonder how many sets of nice shirts he torn apart in the process, and how magical a single black-framed spectacles can fool Lois Lane. It must have been hard for him to fight against Lex Luther all the time, and most of all, to lie to his loved ones, to be somebody he isn't. But who is Superman, really? Who is the real him? The man in the red cape, or the life that he created about him, shrouded in clouds of delusions and lies?


I’m more than a bird
I’m more than a plane
More than some pretty face beside a train
It’s not easy to be me

Upon hearing the words of my dear bitch, there was a lightning that struck in the middle of the Japanese restaurant. In the middle of herself and a stranger, there was a sudden realization of who I am. And who I am, was neither here nor there. I've always had a clear idea of who I am, and what I ought to become. However, the observation that I've been trying to be superhero hit the nail real hard and so deep into my head, forcing me to realize that perhaps, I am not the person whom I've always thought myself to be, the person elevated by his own expectations and false hopes.

The days were longer afterwards, constantly on the search for self. It is not easy to fall from the sky, and it is definitely harder to climb back out of the crater. On the way up, I see the shattered self all around, piece of me strewn about. They looked like the old-self torn off the dead skin, and they fluttered in the dead wind, rolling about and gathering the dirt upon the ground. As I clawed at the dirt before myself, the dead skin crushed under the pressure of my fingers, then sliding down and down, back to the center of the crater. I am back to square one, and soon I am giving up.

Wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
About a home I’ll never see


The truth is that, I've been a person whom I am obviously not for a long time. It must have been the treatment of the army, giving me hopes of what I can achieve. Sure, I recognize the potential inside of me, but at the same time there is a limit to things. I felt like I could accomplish anything, and if you gave me a tub of wax and ten pillows worth of feathers, I might be able to fly away out of the prison that I built for myself like Icarus.

But like Icarus, there is a height that anybody can go, a certain limit to how high you can fly. Once up there, nobody can control you anymore and there is a certain liberty involved, a certain sense of freedom. But at the same time, the heat melts the wax and the feathers come apart. You find yourself plummeting towards the earth, succumbing to gravity's deadly pull - like Icarus.

It may sound absurd
But don’t be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed
But won’t you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream
It’s not easy to be me

Expectations have been blown up too huge around me, and living up to those expectations are hard. I wanted to achieve too many things, not just for myself but also the life that I lead. To have a life this way and that, expecting people to be this or that to me in order to fulfill that vision, that dream. I never realized that I've never fulfilled my own expectations for myself, what right did I have to have expectations for others? I wanted things too fast and too soon, like the way everything works in the army. Guess it did take a toll on me after all, and it isn't too late to right the wrongs the army has done to me.

I am no longer going to have expectations for myself, or anybody around me for that matter. Expectations will rise infinitely high into the sky, and who knows where it is going to rise and expand to next. It may reach the highest places, but are we capable of reaching such great heights ourselves? It is too tiring to attempt that height, too exhausting to be everything all at once - to be a superhero. It's like trying finding Kryptonite, though it has been destroyed a long time ago. You can never find it, because it isn't there anymore. As high as your hopes might be, it isn't realistic for a person like yourself now. So forget it, like everything else, just everything.

Up, up and away, away from me
It’s all right
You can all sleep sound tonight
I’m not crazy or anything

I can’t stand to fly
I’m not that naive
Men weren’t meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

So this is superhero - me - calling everything off. No more crime-busting days for me, no more butts to kick. It is the farm that I shall confine myself to, and starting from a single straw of hay, that is where I shall begin. From the very basics and on, bit by bit and step by step. No more expectations and thus, no more disappointments in life. The only disappointment may be, to return into the skies and try to reach every greater heights again.

But the truth is this: Where I am now, with a new beginning, I might be able to soar even higher than where my expectations never took me before. We'll see about the new life of mine, and wish me luck in the search of my Kryptonite. But this time, I am not merely looking for it. I am going to create it with my bare hands. Just you wait world, just you wait.

I’m only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me
Inside of me
Inside me
Yeah, inside me
Inside of me

I’m only a man
In a funny red sheet
I’m only a man
Looking for a dream

I’m only a man
In a funny red sheet
And it’s not easy...

Its not easy to be me