I lay on my bed in my one room bachelors apartment and stare at my University student card. Gregory T. Benson, the name flashes in my eyes and I remember all the times it showed up in my high-schools achievement list. Yeah, I was a good student back then, grade A student the whole way through. Behind the glamour of brains there was one really pathetic kid though. I wasn’t always this sensitive. High-school was a living hell for me. It was one of those classical bully stories where they’d flip me upside down every day to get my lunch money, and dip my head in a previously used yet not flushed toilet to show me what a dead pet fish feels like. The teasing and hustling wasn’t all that bad, the effects of being thrown in a river only last for about a week. The things that stuck were the constant downers, when you’re told that you’re useless and that no one really cares about you every day it tends to build up into some kind of psychological effect. I wasn’t too badly effected as to get a split personality or anything but when stuff gets too rough I tend to break out into a type of violent frenzy. I don’t yell or anything but whoever seems to be the most annoying in my life will get the message. The hunter becomes the hunted, I don’t dislike this effect but I’m so pumped that I never really remember what I did.