No, being superior has never burdened me; I fail, utterly, at superiority. I was never good in Art class in high school.

High school; man, that brings up so many memories. I used to be one of the popular ones; I got to lead my own herd of sheep and everything. I had friends, and we hung out at lunch sitting on tables and communally ragged on people we didn't like, drove around town with nothing to do but waste time, and best of all, we liked those things. It was cool. Except that I was a sheep, and I was a sheep that knew it. That small little detail was drilled into my brain and was a continuous whisper.

I couldn't take it. I graduated high school, desperate to get away, and fled to a college. Any college; I didn't look at which one. I just ran; I was that afraid of still being a sheep. I didn't want to become a rack of lamb. I refused to sell-out and give into nature.

So I sold my wool. I shave regularly now, to hide my wool. I don't want anyone to know that I am a sheep. I wear fedoras in public, and make a great show of avoiding pink and black clothing. Everyone knows that pink is the new black, that black never dies, and that a sheep couldn't resist wearing what's in. But I do.

Maybe that means I'm changing. Maybe I'm no longer a sheep. But that's ludicrous; you can't really change your nature. To do otherwise, to fight it, makes Martin Heidegger right. I reek of inauthenticity, and this is my failing.

I think all of us try not to look like the follower.