ONE Person's Hero

In all seriousness, I really probably should give more of a fuck about the world and what it thinks of me in general. The fact of the matter, though, is that I march to the beat of my own drummer. The “me” that the world is normally allowed to see is an international supervillain, a bearded curmudgeon. There is this Tiny Human™ in my house who needs a hero. “DaddyDaddyDaddy” is my routine. Frustrating as it may be to hear back to back to back, I respond with “yes baby?” and carry it from where it goes. Fun fact: it is fucking EXHAUSTING. I go out into a world that seems intent on destroying me most times and provide for us, then I come home and put on the happiest face I can. She picks up on the cues around her and is a very emotional child, I work hard to avoid letting her see me break, despite the inevitable occurrence of it. It’s human. To her, I am the smartes...