I remember the first time I opened a comic book. 

 

ADVENTURES OF SUPERMAN #499: FUNERAL FOR A FRIEND PART 5.

 

A quite well-preserved copy I found with some old books at my Grandparents' house.

I remember the first time I went to a COMIC BOOK STORE. 

It had been years since I opened Adventure 499 and I don’t know that I remembered what it was about.
So, perhaps, I was only subconsciously trying to figure out what happened to the Big Guy when I asked my Dad for the collected trade;
THE DEATH OF SUPERMAN.

 

It was maybe a year later - TEN YEARS AGO - at the age of 16, that I, in a period defined by adolescent angst, first created PRIME.

 

He looked different back then. 

 

He acted different. 

 

The morality of Spawn, The Punisher, and Wolverine with the infinite power of The Man of Steel.
A rage-filled powerhouse who indulged in the violence and carnage of vigilantism.  

In the torpor of my teens that was what a hero looked like. 

 

I’ve come a long way since then. 

 

You see, Prime was always me. The man I hoped to see in the mirror.
I would sit at the back of the classroom with my head buried in a sketch-book creating characters and personas for my classmates.
Prime was mine. 

My escape.

My dream.

My journal. 

 

He’s still all those things.

 

A character born from a boy's imagination who has evolved to reflect a man’s ideals. 

 

What was once anger, becomes compassion. 

What was darkness, becomes light.

A villain becomes a hero. 

 

Ten years after he was created as a reaction to the valleys of early High School, Prime now flies as a reaction

to the over-population of darkness and murder that plagues our popular superheroes. 

 

Mixing tales of staunch morals & moral struggles with the wacky, the ridiculous and the absolute joy and fun only comic books can pull off…

 

This is my comic book.

This is my hero.

This is me. 

This is PRIME.