A Pep Talk from Batman to the Struggling Teen

It's all in the title, folks.

Dry it up.

But I don't mean the tears. 

Dry up the oceans of your fears, your doubts, your unconscious calculations of the odds.

The odds, whether you like it or not, will always be against you. 

But never see it as an excuse not to try, only as a badge on your chest telling anyone who gets in your way that you survived. 

Not that you gave up when the going got tough and the bullies got tougher and faster than you could run away from them. 

I was your age once, just as angry, just as hungry, just as much the Batman than I am right now. 

...only I didn't wear the cape just yet.

 I wore it inside, every time I would walk past a childhood friend from before, a memory of when it happened, every single reminder of after...

Take it from someone who knows your fears and your pain all too well, kid. 

Your world might be dark right now, where light and happiness and easy is a fond, yearned for, distant memory...

More distant than the sun and Jupiter and safe put together. 

You lick your wounds with lies to your parents about just how the bruises got there and why you look sick.

I fell, Mom.

 I was punched in the face for expressing myself through art and being a guy simultaneously.

 I'll come straight home, Dad.

 I might be five minutes late, I've got an experiment called "how many times can I be kneed in the stomach by an upperclassman before I can throw up Van Gogh's 'Starry Night'? that I just can't miss.

I'm fine, really. 

Please. I have nothing more to live for, I'm so tired because I have forced myself to stay awake so long to avoid the nightmares...

I'm not afraid of anything, Alfred. 

Wrong.

 I am afraid of everything.

 I'm afraid of never seeing tomorrow, never seeing you or anyone else...never seeing the slight glimmers of light in my city when they dare to show that they're still there, they still exist. 

You and I are not so different, kid. 

You and I have a fear of the minds of others being smarter, better, more perfect and purer than ours. 

You and I have a dream of a world where a young person never has to worry about belonging anywhere,

Where a young person never has to hate the human being in the mirror because of who and what they are, 

Where an eight-year-old kid never has to worry about some lightless, gun-toting, midnight-looking,  desperate-smelling thug tearing away the love from his life for the sake of a few bucks.

You and I have a dream of a Gotham with a God. 

But that dream is not here yet and it may be years before it is. 

Until then..

Wear those band t-shirts like my cape is billowing behind you on the bowing gargoyle.

 Wear your piercings and tattoos like my battle scars. 

Wear your thick-rimmed glasses like my cowl. 

Wear your backpack with the nerdy buttons all over it like my utility belt. 

Be the "crazy freak" that those idiots in Metropolis refer to with slight fear and obvious misunderstanding, until they come face to face with you and if they so much as say a word,

 I want you to break their ignorance with the full force of your Star Trek cup.

Beware, though. 

Some cannot be made to understand, and will hold onto their prejudice, 

Like an addict does a drug that has promised it safety and belonging in exchange for absolute loyalty. 

They will smile too widely at your arguments, their laughing will echo in your ears for a long while afterwards...

And they'll say that being what you are is insane, is immoral...

But will still ask you why you act...so...serious?

Standing up for yourself produces enemies, my friend. 

My final piece of advice to you is to never give up this fight, even when it hurts. 

Because when it hurts is when it counts. 

When you fear. When you doubt. When you unconsciously count the odds. 

I ask you to remember that your world is your Gotham,

And you have to save the ones who are living in it with you from feeling that they're alone. 

The hero your Gotham deserves but has been denied for so long. 

The one those who are struggling like you need right now. 

A silent guardian, willing to listen to each and every word that needs to be heard. 

A watchful protector, willing to step in when injustice occurs. 

You are not a Superman. 

Because you are not cut from the pristine, otherworldly beautiful cloth that cowers in the face of green meteorite. 

You are Vengeance, the spell from Runescape.

 You are the Night...Vale. 

You are Batman. 

Author's Note

Be kind. This is my first swing at this.