Who am I? It's hard to say, especially after gaining these powers. My legal name is Slick Mageeve, although I am anything but slick. I paid the rent for my crappy apartment by working in data entry at the office of a seasonal candy company. The phone customer service representatives make more money, but I wasn't confident enough to talk to people on the phones. I couldn't be John Harshal, the top service rep who not only reminded everyone how great he was daily, but constantly spilled his coffee on me in passing, or bumped my chair to send me falling. He always claimed it was an accident to keep himself out of trouble, and would then give me a fake apology before smirking at me. I wished I was confident and strong back then, so I could have stuck up for myself before things got out of hand like they did recently....

I was walking home one night after a miserable work day of being picked on by John, traveling down the quiet street I always use, when a group of five men began approaching me. The figures wore long sleeved shirts and jeans with wallet chains coming out of their pockets. These long haired dudes were probably popular at parties before, but at this point someone as unattractive and pathetic as me could even compete with them as far as looks. Their decaying bodies confirmed that they were a group of zombies, and they eyed me hungrily. As my life of being picked on flashed before my eyes, a voice in my head told me that the only way I would survive would be by changing my appearance by thought. I had no idea whose voice this was, and found the concept ridiculous, but decided to go along with it since I had nothing to lose. I thought about what I would want to transform into, and I chose to become a superhero like figure complete with a ludicrous costume and cape, because capes are awesome. Now sporting bulging muscles and giant fists and feet, I pounded each of the zombies until there was nothing left. I pictured John's face on each zombie as I pummeled them into dust. The danger over, I looked around and was surprised to see no witnesses. The voice in my head returned, congratulating me on a job well done. The voice told me it would seek me out later, but to feel free to use my powers however I wished until then....

Feeling restless, I went to the 24 hour gym looking nothing like my real self, but now resembling a muscular, attractive man thanks to my new shape shifting skills. I had always paid the $10 monthly fee with the intention of working out and trying to feel better about myself, but always decided against coming in frequently. I saw two young men named Dirk and Doug that I had seen the last time I was at the gym. Dirk had previously been dragged out by Doug for being rude to the women working out, but now he gave off a more respectable, kinder aura. I considered walking over and saying hi, when I spotted none other than John Harshal at the free weights. I thought about how tormenting him would be the perfect workout, and all common sense exited my mind as rage took over. I made my hands grow five sizes bigger, and I approached John and picked him up by his neck. I grabbed one of his arms with my other hand and broke it with a quick squeeze. I laughed with glee over his cries of pain, then threw him into the weight shelf, breaking the shelf and causing the weights to fall onto John. Before I could check to see if he had survived being crushed by weights, a grenade fell in front of him that surrounded him in blue smoke. He walked out of the smoke looking like nothing had been done to him, and then two figures wearing dark helmets and full body armor ran besides him. They introduced themselves as Doug and Dirk, and told the fully healed, but still wimpering John to leave, along with the rest of the gym's inhabitants. The gym cleared out quickly, leaving me alone with Dirk and Doug, who I now realized were members of Hugh's hero network. My vengeance against John being reversed, I decided to take out my frustrations on these two heroes that protected the wrong guy. I transformed my arm into a weight bar, then began swinging it at the duo. They fended off my strikes with their swords easily. I then transformed into a giant sneaker and lunged at Dirk and Doug, but they easily dodged my flying kicks. Desperation hit as I realized these two outclassed me in combat. I then remembered the last time I saw Dirk at this gym, and how he wouldn't take no for an answer from various girls he was hitting on before Doug made him leave. Sure, he seemed heroic now, but perhaps I could bring back his old self. I transformed into an attractive woman, and I only wore a skimpy bikini. I told Dirk in a sultry voice that this was the real me, and that he was a true man that deserved me. I planned to get him once he took the bait, but unfortunately I misjudged him. Without hesitation Dirk made a laser gun appear in his hand, and he blasted me before I could say another word. I fell to the ground in shock, and reverted back to my true form, the weakling known as Slick Mageeve. I felt like I was dying, but Dirk gently told me I wasn't. He told me I was being transported to a place called the Reflection Dimension, where I would be healed and cared for. Before everything went black, Dirk told me I could return without any kind of punishment should I decide to change my ways.

So now I reside in the Reflection Dimension, which is essentially an endless field under a dark, starry sky. An A.I. figure named Guide brings me anything I need, including food, drink, digital entertainment, and of course, this journal I am writing in. This alternate dimension was created by Hugh, the leader of the network that Dirk and Doug belong to. It is designed as an alternative to prisons, a safe place to hold criminals like me. I am free to return to the real world without legal consequences should I vow to do the right thing, just like Dirk promised before blasting me here. I may take the offer someday, but right now I need to process what I have done, and what I would do with my shapeshifting powers should I return. I lamented my life of being bullied, but used the abilities I was given to become a bully myself. I will consider returning and using my powers to help others as atonement, but until then I will enjoy this peaceful place, and spend my days writing and processing my thoughts on all I have been through, and what to do with that information from here on out....

Hello again, my only friend. I wish I could tell the world all that I can tell you. But I know that once I share my truth, my time will come to an end. So thank you, dear diary, thank you for listening to me every time I break down, and thank you so much, my tear-absorbent friend, for giving me the space to be me.

Today this girl named Clairise, who thinks that we are close, poured out to me all of her worries. She says that she is at a strange point in her life, she wishes that I could understand. She says that everything around her is changing and that she doesn't know who she is. I nodded nervously as she spoke, scared that she will find out I'm a fraud. She didn't I guess, I'm still here. I think she thought I was empathizing with her, she told me how appreciative of me she was, that she could confide in me, that I could listen to her.

I had therapy this past Tuesday, Dr. Stephens says that I could do with opening up more, he says that my depression hasn't gotten worse, but it surely hasn't gotten better. I agree with him. He says that if I socialized and built up a group of friends that support me, then I would be set. I wish that were an option. Don't get me wrong, dear diary, it's not that I dislike people, I love them so much, and small talk is great. But small talk is hollow it goes cold when you cling onto it for so long. I don't dare get any closer though, I can get by with only being friends with you, dear diary.

I need to go, but thank you for holding close to you everything I say, and thank you once again, dear friend.

Words seemed to stick to me like the heat of the summer sun. They felt viscous before they indeed ever burned. I wouldn't say I liked the way they left me feeling exposed, the way someone would call me out on the lines they willed in another light. Maybe I should have asked what difference it makes. They'll be gone by September. And you'll have forgotten all about these fits of ember.

My life burned with an intense desire racing most days, just as any heat rises when dry timber gets put into the fire. I guess that's what they meant when they said I let my emotions run wild. But they never seemed to mind the warmth of a slow-burning fire. Voices are rising like the crackle of my defeat. Go ahead and turn to move away your cowardly feet.

No one ever really knew me, but they felt me differently, like the tales of a liar. Things they didn't want to know but secretly sought. Like one red thread that could lead them to what could never be fought. I was the monster of their creation, a sickness aching in their complete devastation. I am not your savior, and I sure as hell am not your monster. All I regret and desire is knowing a world where we become our inevitable sponsor.

Dear Diary,

Until Halloween, I was never so happy to be myself.

Ready to trick-or-treat, I put on my costume. Always having aspired to become a ballerina, I slipped on my slippers and pranced out the door. As the night wore on, my feet began to hurt. Seeking a place to rest, I entered the haunted house across the street, my torn slippers in hand. Expecting tranquility, I entered the fortune teller’s room.

The fortune-teller sneered. Her gaze took me in and came to rest on my slippers. Then she asked whether I regret my costume. With a shrug, I admitted “a little.” Delighted, she offered me a change-in-costume, “some new shoes to walk in.” Curious, I replied “Why not?”

Upon the condition that thou keep out of sight

I will grant thee the gift to shape-shift tonight

Thou need only envision to become what thou wish,

but thou must give up something dear lest things go amiss.

With a crooked finger, she beckoned for my slippers. Captivated, I hand them over. Just as they left my grasp, miasma flood the space. Then as soon as it came, it went, and so had the witch. In her place rest a message:

If thou decides to end the deal,

be back by midnight to make the final appeal.

Wanting only to fly out of there, I shift into a crow to fly over to the local farm. As I glide over the corn maze, I made plans for my escape, only to become disoriented and land in the orchard. From there, I shift into a black cat to conceal myself amongst the canopy, coming to discover creatures which never knew day. By the time I came to ascend the tallest tree, the night had fallen to darkness. Forced to resort to echolocation, I shift into a bat to brave the blind descent. As I found my way upside down, I looked forward to sharing the night's adventure with those I knew.

...Only then did I realize the witch’s curse.

As I flew in, she didn’t so much as stir from her slumber. Upon realizing that I remained a bat, I uttered a screech.

...So thou made it back by twelve after all!

At a quarter to midnight none-the-less...such a close call...

I told her I changed my mind and I wanted my slippers back. For what was the point of this charade if I couldn’t share it with friends? Having transcend her curse, the witch was forced to surrender my slippers. Tired and broken in, the slippers were laid to rest before me. Just as the night's final toll began, I settled into them, happy to be myself again.

Don’t stare too long or follow too closely or you will draw attention. And if they begin to suspect, well, better not to imagine what might happen next.

You have come this far.

Remember those days when you were bound in the body of a flea? Living in literal dirt, blood-hungry and waiting. Waiting what felt like millenia for some unlucky creature to pass.

You got so desperate, you settled for the inhospitable body of an alley cat. All bones and mange and matted fur. There’s no doubt that you would have been doomed had that silly little girl not taken pity on you.

And now, a warm house and regular meals, and all that’s required of you is to sit on a lap and occasionally rub against the master’s legs.

You must appear a constant companion, when really you are biding your time, studying their features and their mannerisms so that when the opportunity arises, you will be ready.

Today I am the wind, whispering though her long auburn hair, daintily gifting flight to shimmering strands that, for an instant, frolic freely in the breeze only to descend gracefully against her cheek. I am the sunshine upon her shoulders, on a perfect autumn afternoon, delicately allowing the warmth of my rays to penetrate her skin and the burning fire of my heart's true desire to permeate her soul, but to me, though not known, the coldest of shoulders I am shown.

I am the light dancing in the depths of her blue-grey eyes, but she is blind to me. Though I am the notes, pleasuring the depths of her consciousness, the melody embracing her heart, and the rhythmic beat of her very being, she hears nothing. I am the sweetest song escaping her lips never to be sung. I am a piercing breath of mountain air in her lungs, a crisp cold glass of water, satisfying her fiercest thirst, and the finest foods to fill her belly, yet she needs me not, nor ever will.

How!? How can I be her heart yet never feel it beat against mine, be her eye but never it's focus, and be her brain but never it's obsession? Tell me! Tell me! Is this my curse? To forever take the shape of my own despair; he who can become anything but satisfied? I would gladly give my weight in gold if only the chance of her to hold. I am never lost nor ever found. I am invisible in plain sight, howling my cry of agony. I am the dreams gone passing by, filling the sails of nothingness, today I am the wind.

I'm the perfect daughter. Hair perfectly quaffed. Dress pressed, smile pasted on with muted lipstick and makeup. Shake hands smile at the rest of the bible-belts doing their Sunday obligation. And as, I walk to my car, I turn the engine on and take the napkin out of my glovebox and wipe another week away.

I get home. Start the stove for appetizers for football. Refrigerate another twelve pack for "the boys." Shrug into a jersey of his favorite team. Smile and laugh as they all come in and settle down. Not one offer to help, but I serve without a frown. I am the perfect hostess.

Brush the teeth, and set the alarm. Check emails to see the latest I can sleep before I have to make lunches, meal prep and dinner for the family. Fall into a restless sleep, as the rest of the world sleep we quietly. Wake up before before it goes off. Everyone is ready to go, and I send them off and prepare myself. I am the perfect wife.

Get to work, go to my cubicle. Greet and smile and log into my life for eight hours. Finish my projects and logout. Decline plans for happy hour but I will see you all tomorrow. I am the perfect employee.

Go to the store, finish the dinner and when everyone is asleep I sneak a nice warm bath. Look at the bubbles, and cry silently. I am perfect for everyone, except my inner being.