I don’t want to learn how to fly, I don’t need to be able to have X-ray vision but perhaps these skills might help me flee foes, or at least, identify rotten hearts before I become embroiled.
I don’t want to grow gills, or bend like a rubberband, but perhaps they might help me survive the floods of tears and enable me to bounce back quicker.
If I am sounding morose, I apologise. I am in the middle of deliberating whether or not to communicate with someone who I have lost as a friend. I don’t know what their superpower might be but I wish them all the power in the world, in some perverse way, to heal themselves.
There I go again.
What if I wiped the slate clean? What if I chose a power to blow cities to the ground, incinerate with my eyes, drive mad with my singing?
My hands are cold from the effort of being alive today. My body is working hard to heat itself in the cold. I find myself holding my breath and make myself exhale.
If I were a superhero, my power would be to create beautiful music and art so exquisite that people everywhere would have souls that danced after they’d experienced my gifts. I would also have the power to remain grateful to my friends, the ability to see them for who they are.