The curse of the secret identity

Ah,yes… I do want to talk about superheroes.

No! It’s not an obsession… Moving on…

Superheroes: they all live double lives, don’t they? Take the Gobbler, for example. I live a life. Basically the same as any other early-teen child. But as the Gobbler, I can be other things. I can be… an author (hello? You’re reading… Something written by me), a skateboarder. You get the gist.

So, why is it that we have secret identities? Is it to hide beneath a shadow that nobody can reveal (minus taking off your mask… cheaters…)? No. We’re brave and strong. We don’t care about hiding. Well, we do but…

So why? It’s not to hide, nor to be ‘cool’ (who does that?). It’s so that we can lead another life. Do things other than save the world. Am I just quoting The Incredibles now? Sorry.

But do you get it? Good. This was meant to inform you, you know…

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Superhero thing outdated?!

Okay, so I’ve been ridiculed a little about my obsession with superheroes. 😦

So here’s proof that they ARE totally awesome (and I mean TOTALLY awesome…):

They’re good-looking! (Come on…)

Seriously- they’re tall, strong, handsome…

And will save your life (bonus!)

 

Er… That’s a bit awkward…

They portray women as strong, intelligent… And able to step out of the olden-days stereotype of girls to play with ‘dolls’…

Want more proof? They’re cool. Really cool. They fight crime, have awesome weapons and NEVER, EVER fail.

 

 

EVER.

It’s time.

Sorry for not revealing myself anytime sooner. I hadn’t realized that you guys didn’t know. Really, really sorry… But I’ll make it up by telling you the whole, full truth. Here goes nothing:

I was sitting at school, half asleep while grammar lessons on appropriate use of commas flew past with wings full of holes (very slowly), when something hit me: I was the one. The chosen one. I mean, how could I not be the one? With my charming, beautiful looks; my elite blogging skills; my incredibly rare love of bottle tops and Pearl Jam and my understated clumsiness, I had to be the one. And it was then that a light shone above me and revealed my true colours (rather pale pink skin). I was the one. A swarm of funny-looking stick figures resembling my own drawings on comicaday beautifully, handed me a black cape with a red “G” on it. And a red eye mask that superheroes wear (not when they go to sleep, when they work…). When I put these on, I was super. I was… (drum roll) THE GOBBLER!!!!!! able to leap tall buildings (given plenty of notice and a tall cherry-picker), able to leave the world astounded at my blogging and able to conquer autocorrect with my strange spelling…

And that’s who I am!