Suicide Note of a Superhero

I am going Tristan. Thought would let you know. You always said that with great power comes great responsibility. You have no idea how much it galled me even though you just meant my typing speed. How is it that you who always notice everything never showed any signs of knowing who I was apart from being your personal secretary. You always knew if something was bothering me. I, for the record, was honest in my response; I always told you I was upset because I had to save the world from an impending meteor crash or a mad scientist's sun beams. You always found me funny. I can never forget the look you would give me sometimes - your eyes fixed on mine, your mouth frozen mid smirk. You said you respected my privacy and you got the hint and that I should take care. I did. For years I took care to save people's lives feeling the weight of my powers all the time. But now I am tired. I cannot do this anymore. I cannot have these powers without feeling the great responsibility of rescuing every kitten stuck on a tree, and live. Sure there were perks. Pretty women were routinely smitten by my costume. They had no way of knowing I was not a man. I am burning the suit to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. I'm leaving my armlet in the second drawer in the cupboard to your left. Something to remember me by. Hope you find a good replacement in the office. But don't expect the Annual report prepared, typed and bound, in 30 minutes just in time for the Board meeting. The office computer software is not as good as I made it out to be. Take care.

P.S. - It is harder than I thought. I keep on bouncing off the pavement no matter from what height I jump. And oh, the armlet does not have any magic powers that I know of.