Supermen of Sadness

I guess we're all supermen and superwomen, now. So what's your super power?

Are you one of them whizzes who develops those confounded algorithamajigs that saves millionths of a cent a million times because you were able to initiate a trade or buy or whatever of millions of whatever a thousandth of a second quicker than a million other people?

If so, well then that's cool, it's just - how should I put it - after you die, computers, or robots with computer hearts, will probably do what you do, right? So you are the last superman of your kind. You will have just been a man; that is when people look back upon you from the future. Assuming that you will be remembered at all.

As for me? I am the Superman of Sadness. You heard me right, I see sadness everywhere.

In the 76 year old grandmother's eyes sitting behind the grill peddling spicy rice cakes along the side of the street. Or in the forced laugh of that highschool senior as he tells me he doesn't have an opinion on this or that or even that and that other thing. I even see it in the unfortunately located restaurant tucked slightly too far around that corner alley which specializes in so-so Italian cuisine, whose 55 year old owner is sitting in the window looking defeatedly out from the patronless space he sunk every last cent he painstakingly saved over the last 27 years of his life in the dream grinder that is a top-tier Chaebol.

I see sadness and feel sadness everywhere, always and forever. Forever.

But, when I am dead and gone, another Superman of Sadness will walk this earth!