I Can't be Your Hero

He is Clark Kent.
I am Lois Lane.
His memories are Kryptonite.

My ability to be a hero stops at my imagination. There are times I imagine I rush forward, capable of wielding a weapon and combat his troubles, his enemies… his heart. I want to rescue him from him and everything that surrounds him, but if anything, I'm a burden and not a solution.  

I want to save him, to pull him away from everything and let him be happy, but his desire resides in revenge, and my desire to keep him safe doesn't allow him to do what it is he needs to do. I'm counterproductive. I'm a nuisance and a hindrance.

I had to tell him something I would have never told him to explain for my rash behavior. I kept him from what he needed to do because I wanted to ensure his protection, his safety.  "I love you." It didn't work, he left anyway, and I was stuck there with my heart on my sleeve, my feelings ignored. I wonder why I do this to myself, why I'm so hell bent on keeping him safe. I'd deduced it to being selfish. I'm selfish.

I'm selfish.

I'm selfish, and I love him.

There are times when I just want to walk away, to walk away from him and his troubles, to save myself from hurt and danger that often times encompasses our farce of a relationship. For the record, we are not together. Our relationship starts and ends at friendship. I am the forest nymph Echo, forced to love and covet this warrior from afar, unable to change or sway the way he feels. It's a burned on me, and on him. He's forced to know that I love him, and I'm forced to settle for less.
If I had the strength to walk away and save myself, I would. Shove away the promise that I would never leave him, and I'd be home free. But even then, I'd still love him. I'd be miserable, and I'd love him and I wouldn't be able to save myself.

Like I said, my ability to be a hero stops at my imagination.