I seem to have this horrible gift.

I am not sure when, exactly, that it manifested. I do know, that I was fairly young.

It is my super power. It has a mind of its own, and it is evil.

It has grown in power and strength over the years, and now I find myself haunted by this, Lovecraftian nightmare that has taken residence in my reality. The power it takes to fight this foe, seems to elude me, as it has for many years. Yet I still search, in a quest worthy of Indiana Jones, for the ore I need, in which to forge a weapon, to help me combat this, monstrosity.

My super power is, (swallows hard), I screw up things.

I am a fairly happy person. Able to enjoy life on most days, but days like this, I feel like standing against a heavy rod sunk deep in the ground and chaining myself to it. Close the padlock. Throw the key. Wait out the storm. Screw up is coming, and guess what? It’s a Category Five storm.

I do screw up things, in truly, magnificent fashions. I mean like in a movie where something happens to one of the actors and you find yourself cringing.

I’m not talking a, whoops, I made a mistake on a paper screw up. I’m talking, “Hey, I might have just caused the end of society”, or, “Look who started the Zombie Apocalypse! This guy!”

Things that are important to me, I have the uncanny super power of being able to, with good intentions in mind, screw them up horribly. When these things happen, it is almost like they tend to cascade into this terrifying chain of events that you know, you just know, someone is going to make a comedy about. It would not be me, (that’s right), because I would screw it up.

Everyone has days like these I imagine. Where it feels like nothing goes right. Nothing meshes. Nothing co-exists. And no planning, can ever happen on those days. Everyone stumbles. Everyone trips.

I do not trip.

I grin like an insane man and run at full speed toward an open stairwell, then I cackle as I dive face first into the first step leading down. I tumble down just enough stairs to not kill me, then I spring to my feet and bang my head on the railing, causing me to stagger out of the stairwell to the sidewalk in front of whatever building I just tumbled through.

Usually at this point, a jogger with headphones on, goes running by with their dog, and the leash sweeps my feet. I slam down on my back and knock the air from my lungs, so I have to fight for air. When I stand back up to catch my breath, bent over and trying to gasp for air like a college student heaving his guts out from a weekend bender, someone opens a door.

Unfortunately, it smacks me in the head and sends me staggering into traffic where I get hit by someone on a Moped. Not enough to do much except irritate me, and send me into the bus lane, where I get hit by the five o’clock shuttle. The driver would not stop until he ran over me with the front tire at least, so that when he opened the door to let the passengers off, they could each step on my head as they did.

I hate my super power.

I should go back to bed.

Stay in bed today. Enjoy what you do.