In or out of the box?

Staring out the window, gazing at the patches of snow still half covering the mountain side, a wash of white and brown and blue. From my seat here in the computer lab of the library I have but a tiny vantage point of the world to gaze at; held in perfect sync beyond these walls I allow myself to slip away. I see a figure standing on the hillside observing the city below; the lights begin to twinkle as dusk sets in. Upon further examination I discover that the figure is me, and I would stand there for hours, my bare feet covered in the remnant of the last snowfall. I suppose the power to withstand extreme temperatures-both hot and cold-would not seem very super, but when I consider that anything more than that would take away from the fun of my own efforts to stand outside the social bubble labeled "normal" I just don't think that I would want it.

To feel the soft and gentle caress of fire licking my finger tips would give me simple pleasure. Not that I would ever want to control something so close to perfection, but to hold back neither fear nor curiosity of fire, this is what smiles are born of.

And who wouldn't want to be happy?