Am I An Artist?

It's Wednesday night, June 26, 1981. I am walking through the alleyway of this street. I can’t quite recall the name of it. I see a couple on the other end, lost in conversation. They have a little boy with them. Then, out of nowhere, a few muggers surrounded them, demanding money and valuables. I knew what I had to do. I was prepared. "I have the money you need!" I shout at them. The burglars turn toward me. "You are one dumb muthafucker, aren’t you? We’ve got two bags of silver now," they taunt, laughing among themselves. "No... This time, I want you to leave them be." With that, I activate my invisible cloak and disappear before their eyes. "What the—!" I disable the mugger closest to the couple with a jaw-breaking hit to the face. I break the arm of another and punch a third in the gut. Now, only the one who had taunted me remains—he has a gun in his hand. Before he can point it at me, I appear in front of him in a flash and grab his hand...

One day I was born. When did I become conscious of it? I don't quite remember. But I do remember this one thing from my past. I was in heaven, and I was a King... I lived like a King, but that was back when I was a child. Not a spotless one, but someone with a lot of goodness and a gentle heart, untouched by the darkness of this wretched world I now live in. I felt at peace, surrounded by the church walls. I felt joy while listening to the muffled voice of that Christian band through the window panes. My heart felt full when I shared my food with another child during vacation Bible school. It was a delight to take part in the feeling of communion without caring about who belonged where. Then I was abruptly thrown out of heaven. Into mere dust... Strife, malice, hatred, and pain— a great deal of suffering. I was on Earth now, and the mud beneath me was sticky and gross. I was an outcast, an alien. But I had my guardian angels, protectors of this realm. Their presence allowed me to e...