Story from Recovering Comic Book Addict

I once had thousands and thousands of comics.

Today I bought my first books from an actual comic shop in over 20 years. It felt exhilarating to support a new local business in my area. I’ve been watching them work on the building for a couple of months with eager anticipation. The new shop is within walking distance.

This may be a problem soon.

As a kid, I became addicted to comic books. I wanted to be a comic book artist, adding to the insatiable desire. I would make weekly comic runs to the neighboring suburb. But I didn’t have a car, so I had stole my dad’s car from his job, temporarily. I would return it a couple of hours later. I’m not sure how I never got caught.

To this day, he has no idea how devious I was as a kid.

The runs had to end at some point. My point became when I got married and had a family to support. I had to leave those childish desires behind. And it is evident that I would never become a comic book artist.

Now I see the stories and characters from my childhood comics seep into every part of our culture and become a billion-dollar industry.

Superhero stories dominate the big and small screens. There’s even a sub-genre that mocks the old characters and storylines. It’s hard not to be annoyed by it all at some point. Meanwhile, I’m reliving my youth by walking to the comic book shop.

I’m eager to discover the next artist, writer, and story that will spark my imagination. The coolest thing is that I won’t have to steal my dad’s car. I’ll just walk and get my steps in for the day.

6046 for today, in case you were wondering.

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Read this and many other essays on my blog teevee.mx