How I became the coolest dude...

It was probably in 10th grade when I had decided to be the cool dude. My words would turn into icy little sharp shards of metal, launched calmly in the case somebody dared to enter my well guarded inner circle. My eyelids would barely open, I would scan my surroundings with a level of apathy I imagined in the man with the iron mask. I would become the well trained samurai who would take comfort in the knowledge that a single blow of my open hand could easily kill a grown bear. My lips became thin. My chin moved up, though just by a notch. About 20 seconds into my plan I had to give up. I just could not keep up a façade like this. My personality was naturally more like a strangely colored cotton ball with a impenetrable yet ever changing core, not a silver painted chitin skinned giant cube filled with a polo mint. Strange decisions are made in chemistry class, when the focus of the material discussed by the other students turns from being a graspable chandelier filled with aromatic candles to a faint little single star, out of the range of even the best brain booster rockets... My brain never caught up with chemistry class. And I never again tried to be the cool dude...