The truth is I was never good at being normal. Sometimes that can be a good thing. But too often while growing up I was left feeling like an outsider, uncomfortable in my own skin. In fifth grade, I learned to transcend the trappings of my existentially riddled mind by opening a book and escaping into the world of fiction. Suddenly I was trouncing through worlds unknown with heroes and anti-heroes, privy to their every thought and emotion as they journeyed toward self-discovery. By ninth grade, I was fervently tearing through books, writing short stories of my own, and dreaming of my future life as an accomplished author. At last, I would be understood! Then during summer vacation after my junior year of high school I was in a car accident and clunked my head. After two weeks in the hospital, they let me go home. Physically, other than a scrape on the back of my head, I was no worse for the wear. I rejoined my friends and went back to high school in the fall. Thank god, but not really. I looked like the same old Brady. But I was different. Really different!