Having superpowers isn’t the blessing comics promised—it’s a curse wrapped in velvet, slowly tightening. Sure, super-strength feels intoxicating… at first. But after you’ve crushed a few cars like tin cans and watched people’s frightened eyes shift from awe to terror, boredom creeps in, dark and relentless.

Flying loses its thrill quicker than you’d imagine; once you’ve soared past skyscrapers and touched the clouds enough times, the sky becomes just another empty road. Teleportation? A bitter joke. You’ve seen every hidden corner, every secret shadow, and found nothing but repetition and loneliness. The world is smaller, emptier, colder than ever.

And beneath it all waits the greatest cruelty—realizing you can rip apart steel, transcend distance, defy gravity, yet remain powerless against the true horrors: death, poverty, violence. Immortality never arrives; the reaper always does, mocking your fleeting might.

In the end, you see the bitter truth clearly: superpowers aren’t a gift; they’re just a cruel reminder of how little power you truly hold.