Pride.

Chapter 4: Icabod

For the first time in his life, Icabod wished his life wasn't so perfect.
So lucky.
So empty.

A loving mother and father, one older brother, one older sister, and his twin sister.

Mr. John Crane
Mrs. Mary Crane
Micheal Crane
Sarah Crane
Emily Crane.
And then Icabod.
Icabod Crane.

What sort of bullshit joke was that.

It was like his parents were slightly delusional in the last moments of their final child's birth, and decided bestow the most random name in the family onto him.

Some people thirst to be unique.

Icabod thirsts to be normal.

He thought he was nice enough. Polite, nice smile, never outspoken, but never too dull. Dressed modestly for his age, was very responsible and mature. Looked pretty average as well, with his average brown eyes, his average black hair that came down to his shoulders in waves, and his average shuffle.

How can you be average when you sexually prefer both genders?

Icabod wasn't stupid. No, far from that. He was aware that in the year of 2015, LGBT couples were being regarded more openly than before. He was Atheist, so a make-believe God wasn't a problem. People, at least understanding people, are comfortable when around homosexuals.

Icabod isn't comfortable with himself.

How could you be comfortable, when you have 6 attempts of failed suicide on your record?

And if you ask Icabod,

He can't tell you the exact proportion of the angle of which the sky bends.

He can't tell you any advice on how to live a fantastic life, in blissful peace and harmony.

He can't explain, what it is like, to come from a family that refuses to pretend.

But he can tell you something.

Something, you might not want to hear.

Something, you might not care about.

Icabod Crane, 15 year old, suicidal, professional pretender, can explain to you with exact precision,

How much it sucks to be stuck in the wrong body.