no flowers at my funeral

my father talks about me in past tense.
"you were so smart. you were brilliant."
and my mother chimes in.
"me and your father talk about it all time. where did you go? you left a long time ago. we don't know why."
and i say nothing, quietly reminiscing those many years ago when i went missing.  do you know how it feels when somebody looks at you and only sees a shadow?  something like a breathing corpse.  it's an out of body experience when you can remember being brilliant like my prime has already passed me. i'm only twenty four, my prime doesn't even know who i am yet.

but yet and still, my parents have a point.  i died a long time ago.  i never had a problem with dying though.  here's my problem. i saw this movie and long story short this woman's son was dying from heart failure and she was the only match for him.  she induced her own death to save his life.  so when my parents talk about me in past tense, i always want to ask, when will you save me?

but like little kids outgrow their fear of the dark, i outgrew the need for superheroes a long time ago. like they said, "i was smart."