I took a deep breath.

I knew this day would come eventually. Thinking I could hide this from Eleanor for long was naive, to begin with. Despite this, I really wished my parents could just have kept quiet about it for once.

I breathed out.

It's fine. I've prepared for this. I know exactly what to say and have it all planned out in my head.

"I..It...Ehm...it's not as big as deal as.. you... eh... think..." Crap. I can't focus when she stares at me like that. It's like she's looking right into my brain, forcing it into a meltdown.

"Y...You know what? I have to use the bathroom. I'll be right back." I hastily began sitting up to leave the room.

"Richard. You're free to use the bathroom any time you want, but this is still something we will have to discuss eventually. Perhaps it will be easier for you if that were to be sooner, rather than later. Continuously postponing matters often lead to more stress in the end." She spoke in a tone that was somehow both filled with assertiveness and concern.

I wavered. I really didn't want to talk about this, but ultimately, she was right. My parents had spent a lot of money over the years trying to help me and I was already a failure of a son in many ways. I couldn't run from all my problems after they'd given so much in order to help me. And it wasn't as if I felt uncomfortable talking about it specifically with her. I actually felt more comfortable talking with her about most things than with my parents. But I didn't like thinking about this subject that much.

Sitting down in the armchair again, I was overly aware of where my hands were at all times. Letting out a short sigh, I tried to mentally prepare myself. Here it goes, I guess.

"You know, I wasn't lying when I said it wasn't as big a deal as you think," I said and looked at Eleanor.

She raised her eyebrows. "Is that so? I imagine possessing superpowers would be a big deal to most other people. Especially so if you were to lose them. Are you not downplaying the significance of this matter? Your parents seem to think it still holds much weight in your mind."

"That's the thing. I know that whatever my parents told you might make it seem like a huge thing, but they're just exaggerating. Truth be told, I doubt I had any superpowers at all, to begin with." Good. Good. I've got my footing again and I'm not stuttering anymore. I might be able to make it through this.

Several seconds followed where none of us said nothing. I tried looking away from Eleanor's questioning gaze, finding something else to focus on. In this case that something was my hands. They were still moving around as if they didn't know where they should be. So much for not running away from my problems. I shook my head. I had to stop avoiding it.

After forcing my hands to stay still through what felt like a truly herculean effort, I slowly looked up again.

Eleanor was still looking at me softly, saying nothing. She put down the notebook on the table, clasped her hands together, and leaned forward. "Rick, tell me. What exactly do you think I am talking about when I say that you had superpowers?" She asked.

Rick. We're back to Rick now. That's good.

"Whatever my parents told you, really. Knowing them, they probably told you that I used to be a super genius. Up till I was four; when I somehow just stopped being one. From what I've heard, I had an easier time learning languages, I read books that were too complicated for a child my age, and I was overall just a bit more clever than other kids."

I took a deep breath before I continued.

"Thing is, I don't remember any of that. I only know what I've heard from my parents and read in some old newspaper clippings from where we used to live. I mean, yeah, I was a smart kid. Maybe even a borderline genius. I can accept that. But that wasn't a superpower. And even if it was, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm not a genius now, nor have I been for a long time."

Eleanor looked at me with a surprised expression on her face. "Rick, I wouldn't call a two-year-old child, who's fluent in five different languages, knows advanced arithmetic, can name every single bone in the human body from memory, and at several occasions showcased the ability to learn most of the contents in a book just by flipping it through a few times, a borderline genius." She said.

"A child like that is without a doubt a genius. An unparalleled one. Frankly, that level of genius, especially at that age, is so absurd that it should not be possible for an undeveloped brain to achieve. Are you saying that something like that should not be called a superpower?"

What? That's... That's not right. None of it is. It can't be.

"My parents...They never..."

"Your parents never told you to what extent your powers really reached during your childhood, did they?" Eleanor finished my jarred thoughts.

"No. No, they didn't...Is all of what you said really true? This isn't just some complex ploy you've thought up to force me to face my problems, right?" I tried sounding as humorous and aloof as possible, but you didn't need a Ph.D. in psychology to understand that, right now, I was anything but.

"Rick, I would never lie to you. I hope you know that." At this point, there was nothing stern about Eleanor's expression, and her voice was filled with nothing but compassion.

"I will not pretend to know why your parents felt this was something they had to hide from you. And I understand if they feel that I, as an outsider to the situation, should not have divulged what they have partially kept hidden for ten years. However." She took a deep breath as she continued. "As your therapist, I have a duty to both you and myself to do what I think is necessary in order to help you. I do not think that would be possible while information like this is being withheld from you. But I ask you to not feel resentment against your parents for this. They only hid it because they cared, thinking it would you to know what you had lost."

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

This was a lot to take in. More than a lot, honestly. After all, it wasn't every day you found it that you'd gone from being an exceptional super-baby to the unexceptional — decidedly not-super — me. That, plus the fact my parents had been lying to me about it for as long as I could remember. You'd think I would be pissed off about that. And yeah, I sort of was. But they were still my parents and I still loved them. Also, knowing that they kept the whole truth from me because they cared, that...That made it hard to stay mad at them.

"But why would my parents think that..."

"That learning the truth would hurt you?" Eleanor finished my sentence with a sly smile on her face. "You are not as hard to read as you might think, Rick. Your inferiority complex is plain to see to anyone who spends a little time with you. And don't act surprised. I would not be a good therapist if I didn't, amongst other things, notice your low self-esteem. Nor would your parents be good parents if they failed to notice it."

She shook her head. "But your tendency to underestimate yourself is not the matter we are discussing right now. Just know that you are more astonishing than you think."

And with that, we moved on to other topics. Thankfully the rest of the session went by without any further bombshells. She gave me some tips about interacting with other people and we also discussed my problems with sleeping at night and related matters.

We didn't talk much more about my childhood, parents, or supposed inferiority complex — which I couldn't dispute, but felt had valid reasons for — and I was glad for that. I needed some time to think about and digest everything, and I think Eleanor understood that. She was a good therapist for me.

At the end of the session, just as I was about to leave, Eleanor put her hands on mine. "I meant what I said earlier, Rick. About you being more astonishing than think. You really are." She said.

"I appreciate you saying that, but it isn't true. It might have been true when and if I was a 'genius', but isn't anymore."

"Rick, genius doesn't just disappear. Contemplate on that for a bit. We will see each other again next session. Till then, have a good week."

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After leaving Eleanor's place I went straight home and lay down in bed. I didn't feel like doing any homework, nor did I feel like sleeping for once. I just lay there, thinking.

I'd started to understand why my parents thought telling me the truth would truth. Mainly, because it did. It hurt like hell.

Knowing that I used to be a super genius. knowing that I used to be somebody I felt could make people like my parents proud, and knowing that I lost it all without even remembering it. That's what hurts.

Without remembering...

That made me wonder. Eleanor said that I was more astonishing than I thought. I disagreed with that. But, 'genius doesn't just disappear' she'd said. What exactly did she mean by that?

Maybe...Maybe the old me was still inside there somewhere? Maybe somewhere in my mind, there was a little safe where he was hiding and all I needed to do was open it. Maybe if I tried hard enough to remember...

It sounds crazy. Losing intelligence — whatever that's supposed to be — just like that and then regaining it. I mean, does that even work? Did I hit my heard really, really hard, or something? But what if it was possible?

I got up and rushed out of the room. Running into my parent's bedroom, I ignored my mother's surprised cry as I frantically began searching a cupboard. Finding a binder, I hollered out a quick "good night, love ya" to mom before leaving the room as suddenly as I had entered it, leaving her completely dazed.

Back in my room, I slammed the binder on the desk beneath my Batman poster and started looking through it. It didn't take me long to find what I was looking for.

Pictures of me when I was a kid. most of them were of me sitting in front of different books, engulfed in my own little world, wholly oblivious of the situation around me. Taking out some of the pictures, I slid over my chair to the bed and lay down. Holding the pictures above my face, I thoroughly scanned every single detail in them. I desperately wanted to find something, anything that I remembered. Thinking that if I could remember something small from these pictures it might help me unlock more memories, I lay there in bed for the remainder of the evening just looking at the pictures. There was nothing. Even when I kept looking and memorized every single detail of the pictures, there was nothing. Eventually, I just fell asleep in bed with my clothes still on.

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When I woke up the next morning I barely had the energy to get myself out of the bed. All the pictures lay on the floor next to the bed and my bedsheets were all ruffled. I glanced around the room and saw that my computer was turned on. I never used it the day before, so I must have been sleepwalking tonight too.

Forcing myself out of the bed, I almost stumbled as my feet touched the floor. The previous day's emotional turmoil had really taken its toll on me. In the end, my desperate attempts to remember anything of value had been in vain. Not that I thought that it would actually work. But I can objectively say right now that I wasn't — unsurprisingly — in the best state of mind yesterday.

I had been so obsessed with the idea of becoming a genius, someone my parents could be proud of, that I entirely failed to see what had been right in front of my nose from the start.

My parents chose not to tell me about my past genius-ness. If they were hoping that I'd go back to being Einstein 2.0, then keeping it hidden from me would only hinder that. And it's not like they've ever tried to pressure me into performing better than I've done.

Although maybe that's not entirely true. I think I finally understand why we have such a huge library. Perhaps they do still harbor some hope that I'll be a genius again. But who wouldn't? The important part is that they haven't been treating me any worse because of it. They've just been treating me like you would treat your beloved son. In their eyes, I'm not a disappointment.

Of course, I've always known this. It's not like I've gone thirteen whole years thinking my parents hate me and consider me a disappointment. They've expressed their love and affection for me enough times to wipe away any doubts in that matter.

The one who's considered me a disappointment has always been myself. Even though getting it confirmed — in a way — that the current me actually is a disappointment compared to the previous me should still hurt, oddly enough, it doesn't hurt that much anymore. Partly because I now know for sure that my parents don't give a crap about whether I'm a genius or not, and partly because it gives me hope.

It's like Eleanor said. 'Genius doesn't just disappear'. Although it doesn't seem like I'll get an easy ticket to becoming a walking encyclopedia, there's more than one way to learn stuff.

I'll make sure that I become a person I consider worthy of my parent's love, and I'll do it the same way everybody else gets tough things done. Through good Ol' fashioned labor — assuming can get around that whole problem of wanting to sleep for 80% of the day. But that bump was for another day.

Baby steps. Baby steps.

With that thought, I energetically started making myself ready. I already knew what my first goal was. I had an important day in front of me. After all, it was time to acquire my first friend.