I griped the pillow cradling my head and curled into a ball. I was easy to read. Soft, gentle, a coward. How could anyone ever feel complimented by those words? I lived in the twenty first century, a time where men weren’t so weak and ill-defined. I wasn’t supposed to be so simple. I needed to be complex in someway, yet there was nothing complex for me to be complex about. I wasn’t a genius with a lack of social skills. I didn’t posses any unique talents like playing the piano from memory the first time, I couldn’t run a marathon, and I wasn’t the first person to study their ass off to achieve a 98 percent in their classes. A simpleton was what I was and will always be. I focused my life around school and didn’t like social outings as much because I felt I couldn’t offer anything. There was always a class clown, the nerd, a pretty face, the sensible, the irrational, and I was none of these. At this point in time I felt like I wanted to disappear. “What the hell!” I moaned throwing the pillow I was clutching so desperately too across the room.