Right in front of my feet stood an enormous mass of dead hopes. Huge rocks of what was meant to be were sliding down, and as they hopped on the hill, they were breaking into smaller and smaller pieces. It was too painful to see, but still it required inner strength to absorb and swallow. Some said, “Do not be ungrateful for what you have,” and they’re correct, except that no stone is the same as another one.

My bag, a case full of rainwater, was soaking all my valuables. But it didn’t matter. What was behind me was already dead. I could not go back, and I could not stay still, because the abyss could drown me forever, like the mouth of a filthy monster. I had to take a step and move forward.

Then I turned around and took a look. Ruins of a nuclear war, with no sign of life. A reflection of what I had ever built, destroyed by the sands of time. Nothing could be felt, except one thing.

A sharp thunder strike hit me straight between the eyes. I felt hate and anger. Rage. Hate for everyone and everything that was pulling me down. For all the weight of the world that stood on my shoulders. I felt anger about not being able to take control of life, of losing my loved ones, of getting crushed by circumstances over and over again, of feeling constant suffering through deep reflective realization.

And then the storm settled. I felt helpless, with no options to choose. I had to resign and drop my weapons. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t have to. I could still carry my guns and walk. I could not resist the furious wind, but I could open my arms and fly with its assistance. I could be one with the water. I could dissolve into the sand. And then my strength was multiplied.

A few seconds later, hate and anger had vanished. The things I felt were not enforced by external forces but imprinted by my inner voice.

Perspective.

This is all that matters. It’s not the ones who have unjustified me. The car’s failure is an event, not an intention. It’s not the electricity vendor who overcharged me. It’s not the friends who forgot to call me on my birthday or nameday. It’s not the hosts who did not cook well for me.

To the point that we, as part of a web of predetermined futures, humans can alter the future—it’s all on us. And to the point that we can move a tiny rock to cause the collapse of the mountain—it’s on us.

To the point that I can forgive everyone and everything and accept my true superhuman power of altering my mind’s perception to my extent, I declare war on the ones who will try to stop me from climbing this mountain. I declare war on the ones who will try to devalue my existence on earth, as we are all flesh and bones and nobody has more than anyone else.

The mountain is endless, the storm inevitable, but the climb begins with the first conscious step. It is about time that we use our superpowers.