My head was pounding and I couldn't quite understand how I could digest so much jungle juice and tequila in such a short amount of time. I tell myself to slow down and I never do. I just drink more, trying to man up and prove to my boys I'm not weak. Hang overs couldn't touch me. Shots couldn't out do me. I drank and chugged until my liver practically climbed out of my gut and begged me to stop.

And now, here I am, smelling my own vomit close by. I was scared to move. I was scared to open my eyes, but I did. The sun burned and I shut them momentarily before slowly opening them again. I glanced at the window and it seemed so high up. I thought I was on the floor, but I could feel my mattress below me. I sat up slowly and took in my surroundings.

Whoa.

I must've been trashed. My room was a mess, like I had thrown quite a fit. My furniture was broken and pushed around. Papers and awards thrown in every direction. I looked around and saw my bed's headboard was embeded into the wall across from me.

I paused.

That wasn't right.

I turned around to look behind me and there was a gaping hole in my bedroom wall. I could see into the guest room perfectly. There was plaster and wood and wiring everywhere. I gasped and my mouth hung agape. I looked at my bed, the once sturdy legs broken. No wonder the window was so high. My bed had no legs. It was like I was too fat for it to hold so it finally gave out. I glanced at the mahogany headboard halfway into my wall. I looked at the gaping hole behind me. I glanced down at my bed...

Then I stood, so quickly that I felt the wind move afterwards and I thought to get to the door and there I was. I heard a whoosh of wind behind me and I stood still for a moment as I glanced back at the bed. The sheet I had wrapped over me just hit the mattress.

Did I just run here? I wondered before I began to feel panic run through my veins. I grabbed the door knob and pulled the door open, only to have to rip from the hinges from my tug. Splinters of wood dusted the air as a loud cracking noise sounded through my quiet home. I stared at the door, held up by just my hand.

It felt like nothing. Like I had a bottle of Pepsi in my palm instead of a door I'm sure would require two men to carry. My hand shook as I backed up laid it on the floor as gently as possible.

I looked around the damaged room. The holes, the broken bed posts. The door on ripped from the hinges and the headboard sticking out of the wall.

I looked down at my hands. Back and front. They were pink and warm and normal, but as I looked at the door frame, edged roughly from my...de-hinging, they seemed oddly out of place. My head spun for a moment and I placed my hand against the wall for support, only to have it break through to the other side. I pulled my arm out of the new hole, expecting cuts or bruises, but only plaster dust covered my skin.

I felt like I had pushed through a sheet of paper rather than layers and layers of wall. I backed up from the hole and into the hall, careful not to touch a thing as I made my way down the stairs. Everything was normal in the living area. Quiet and peaceful until the phone rang.

I jumped to get it and the room blurred for a moment before I was standing right next to the base across the living area. I glanced back at the bottom of the stairs I was just standing at, knowing I had ran from there to here at an unhuman rate. The phone rang again and I went to pick it up, only to have it break in half in my hands.

I dropped the wired plastic mess and was in the kitchen the very next second. The phone rang again and I took a deep breath, pressing the speakerphone button as carefully as I could manage.

"H...hello?" I asked slowly and softly.

"Dude, you're up, right?" Trace's voice came blaring through speaker. He sounded like he was walking somewhere. His breathing was weird.

"Yeah, I'm definitely up," I replied.

"Good, 'cause you've got that Details shoot and I'm on my way to-"

"Um... I don't think I can go to that today, man," I declined, looking at my hands and legs again to confirm their outside appearance was normal.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Trace whined, "They paid you in advance. You have to go." I focused on a banana on the table in the living room and was peeling it before Trace could notice I moved.

"Can I reschedule?" I asked, staring at the banana in disbelief.

"No, you cannot." I stuffed the fruit down my throat without bothering to chew as I flashed over to the trash can and back to the phone.

"Trace," I said seriously, smiling to myself in an awed way.

"You can't reschedule," he reinerated and I rolled my eyes.

"You're my best friend and I know you're gonna think I'm crazy."

"I've always known you were crazy, Justin, but that's not getting you out of this interview."

"Forget the interview, man!" I demanded, "Something... happened last night."

Trace sighed. "Is it a girl?"

"No, man. No girl."

"Is it a guy?" he asked cautiously and I sucked my teeth.

"No, Trace..." I trailed off. "I woke up and...and I think I got something...altered."

"Please don't tell me you have herpes or something because that's just-"

"No, Trace, listen!" I growled in frustration. "I think... I think I'm Superman." There was a long pause on his end and for a moment, I thought he hung up. I bit my bottom lip. Waiting for his response. I heard a squeak, like he went to say something, but retracted his statement instead.

"Trace, did you hear me, man?"

"Yeah..." he finally said before pausing again momentarily. "I'm just... I'm just trying to figure out what could've made you resort to using cocaine." I scoffed at the perposterous statement before taking a breath.

"I'm not on any drugs," I assured, "I woke and my room was trashed and there was a hole and then I ripped the door from the hinges and-"

"You what?" he asked as I rambled over him.

"... I can run so fast I don't even know I'm running!" I continued to gush, "Trace, I'm like a cheetah!"

"Justin, you're scaring me," he said quietly, "You sound so serious."

"I am!" I confirmed, "I'm Superman!"

"Um... let me call you back." He hung up before I could respond and I stared at the phone before hanging it up with as much caution as before. I sighed to myself before I jetted up to my room, smiling to myself as I stopped right before I tripped over the door I laid out in the floor. The whooshing noise hit my ears seconds later and I adjusted my wind whipped clothes. I took in the room again and shook my head in amazement.

This could not be happening.