I remember, when I was about 8 years old, wishing I could fly like Superman. It wasn't much consolation to me that apparently no one else could fly, either. Misery didn't seem to love company at all. I didn't seek out anyone else who likewise wanted to fly but couldn't. My biggest reason for wanting to fly in the first place, was that I'd be doing something that none of the other kids could do, so I'd be... one up on them or something.

It seemed kind of unfair or something, that I couldn't seem to fly no matter how much I wanted to. I didn't call it an "affliction" (I doubt that I knew the word yet) but if I had, I would've wanted to be not one of many similarly afflicted, but (of course!) the only unafflicted one.

I didn't figure out till much later that if I had somehow learned to fly, I would've had two new things to worry about: what if I were to forget how to fly, just as mysteriously as I'd learned? And what if someone else learned how, too, so I was no longer the only one?