Spearhead jogged through the dirt path, his heavy-duty boots kicking up dust behind him. Spearhead didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn and run three miles in the cold, yet it was the only thing that could get his mind off of what had become of his life.

Having to mature so young and tell yourself that life would never treat you right is messed up, most people would agree. At least Spearhead thought so, not so much the two people who landed him here.

Spearhead felt light mist fall on his face, it was raining and he was miles away from his camp. It was too late to go back now so he continued on the path that was slowly muddying up. Spearhead shivered, he didn't bring a jacket but he convinced himself that he enjoyed the cold. It was better than the cold of his heart.

He never had the jacket of affection since the day his parents found out; found out such a shameful secret Spearhead hoped to never see light in the world, to never drink a drop of water to give it life. All the lies and deception and the horrid mask his two caretakers wore fell to the ground and he saw who they were.

They, among others, are people who expect their children to live up to exactly what they dream of. A carbon copy of every ideal that they have never lived up to. They project their insecurities and anger onto someone who hasn't even fully understood how to tie his shoes.

They told him that everything he did right in their eyes would make them proud, no matter what they would love him, that their love was unconditional, he was to be their picture-perfect son just like his brother, JB, was to them.

How Spearhead saw it was different, JB seemed like a shell of a man. He had let go of everything that made him special, made him unique and true to himself. He filled the hollow shell with what their parents thought was the best for him. Spearhead remembers going to one of his JB's hockey games, he had a look of pure dread on his face. But he distinctly remembered looking at his parents, their beaming proud faces cheering for what "he liked" and they did this "for him."

Spearhead knew that he thought about the world in a different way than most children do. He remembers having long talks with his brother, and he told Spearhead about everything that had made his life miserable.

"They completely control my life, it's like I can't do anything I'm interested in. It's always hockey and more hockey and going to the rec center on the weekends. I want to do art, I want to finally sit down with a pad and pencil and finally be able to sketch whatever the hell I want." JB chuckled with a lack of humor in his voice.

"Wow," Spearhead murmured.

"You know, you're lucky," JB started. "You're young, mom and dad ain't focused on you just yet but whatever you do, don't let them control you like they did to me or you'll be miserable. One day you'll be able to leave and have a life of your own, don't waste your childhood on something that doesn't matter."

Spearhead didn't understand what JB meant at the time, given that he was six he knew that JB was miserable under their parents' control.

Spearhead was bundled up in the puffer jacket that made him waddle around like a penguin. His parents were out of their seats and screamed toward the rink. They looked angry, clouds of steam were leaving their breaths and the deafening buzzer sounded through the arena signaling that the game was over. JB's team lost. They yelled at JB, projected all of their wishes and measures children could never live up to on JB, the kid who they claimed to love.

Spearhead was startled when he tripped on a dip in the trail. He caught himself with his hands before he fell on the muddy path. Muck coated the lower part of his pants and his hands were filthy.

"Now's a perfect time to have an existential crisis," Spearhead chuckled bitterly.

Spearhead wiped his palms on his pants and continued jogging.