I Want More

It's no good. It took me days to burn through that first stogie. I applauded myself for my self-control, kept putting it out when I felt I'd had enough. Then I bought another one. What am I? I woke up this morning and started drinking. Am I back to my old habits? They're so good. I enjoy them. Is it wrong to be happy?

I wasn't going to smoke this other cigar, or smoke it slow like the last one. All morning I've been lighting it up, smoking a little, then putting it out. I don't feel like I have enough. The last of the whiskey is sitting a few feet from me. I proved I could stop, but I don't want to. I don't have a reason to make it work. Why can't some villain show up and threaten the world? The power I have, the time on my hands, if only they had some purpose. In the comics, in the movies, it's always so clear. Where's the giant death ray? Where's the Skrull invasion? Why does real life have to be so hard?