The Amazing Life of Masson Johnson. (Edit I) (Part I)

When I was born, my mother tells me, they marveled at my physical state. Nurses had to tear me away from other nurses who couldn't stop looking at me. My pop tells me that it took nearly an hour for them to finally get me into my mothers arms after my birth. People just couldn't keep there mitts off me. Apparently I was a pretty baby. From the womb I had thick golden hair that was wavy in the back. By age 3 my hair had turned golden brown and, never having been cut, was already at my shoulders.

If you go back and look at the books you'll find notes on my birth records.

Note of Birth: Masson Johnson - Amazing physical beauty. Like none I have ever assisted in birthing. Full head of hair at birth. Strong muscle tone at birth. (7/4/81)

Even from early in my youth my dad was awkward about all of it. I never got to go out for the baseball team or got to run track. I was kept from knowing the exact dates of sports tryouts and was never allowed to attempt any kind of flip our technical maneuver off of the neighborhood diving board. He always just told me that "You wouldn't like it" or "You should spend your time doing something more productive." I myself thought that I would be, in actuality, very good at these things such as running and jumping and throwing things. But, with respect for my dad I always found myself on the spectators side of things.

High school was difficult. I was the biggest in my class.

Being 6'6" with hair that, when un-done from a tie, lay just inches from the ground did not help matters much. Being as that I was never permitted to go out for sports I was also never introduced to physical exercise. But never the less, my muscle tone was, if I do say so myself, of exceptional grandeur. I had golden-brown skin year round yet rarely found myself outside for more than an hour at a time. I was a reader. A lover of words. Inside, in a chair was an ideal environment. My mother always encouraged me to go and play with the other kids my age but I never did.

My senior year I was accepted to Yale on a full scholastic scholarship. The day I left my mom hugged me and reminded me about keeping my hair out of my face. My dad gave me a firm handshake with a hundred dollar bill inside and a word of advise, "Stay away from those sports fields ya hear!" He seemed to be joking but his tone was as serious as death. "Your school work comes first, second and third" he would always tell me.

I drove away not know that would be the least time that I ever saw them.

Midway through my freshman year my house caught on fire in the middle of the night. The investigator told me that they died in their sleep. He told me that due to smoke inhalation they most likely never even woke up. He patted me on the back and handed me the card of some state recommended family counselor.

I never went.

Instead, I just went back to school and kept on living. I loved my parents dearly but what was I to do? I loved my mother dearly but she would have hated for me to stop living my life in the way that she had taught me. And as for my dad...well. What can I say about a man who treated me like a charity case my whole life? I had to expand myself beyond what he had limited me to.

After my sophomore year I found myself board with life. I was at the the top of all of my classes, student body president and chief editor for the Yale Daily News. I found myself daydreaming of running in-between classes. my dreams had become consumed with images of me lifting skyscrapers and stopping trains with just a fist.

I was jumbled.

Confusion was my constant companion.

Then, one day came a piece of paper that changed everything.

"Yale track team seeking fresh meat! Seek further info here:..."

After a phone call and a physical with my doctor I found myself in a pair of khaki shorts and barefoot. I had never had the need for running shoes so I thought it best not to wear my top-siders. I felt so out of place. I felt like such an outsider. But, at the same time, I felt to at home. With the grass beneath my feet and space to run it was as if I had found my most applicable canvas. My body being the medium.

The ten others that stood around me wore what seemed to be brand new, high-tech shoes and super light weight shorts and sports shirts. I had no idea what the brands were nor did I even know where to purchase these things. But all at once my thoughts were turned to a tall, thin man with brown hair and thick rimmed glasses.