the way you saved me

When I grow up, I want to be a superhero who doesn’t wear a mask, one who understands there is no good and evil, only drowning and flying. I’ll paint intricate designs which represent my beliefs onto little ball bearings and load them into a gun built from triumph and vines growing up the walls of old brick buildings. I’ll fly over the waveless ocean of people who’ve forgotten they have souls and fire a single shot into the center of their backs, where it’ll sink in and push air through their lungs to remind them they’re still alive. It’ll give them the energy to swim to the surface and see the wide canyon of stars which haven’t lit up their nights since they daydreamed as infants. It’ll give them the hope to believe they can build wings from palm leaves, driftwood, and rubber bands, all tied together with a lot of hard work. And—because instead of wearing off, it grows stronger—it’ll leave them with the determination to keep flying higher and higher until they catch one of those glowing stars in their palms.

When I grow up, I want to save people the same way you saved me.

—Nora Sorgi, Woodside Road