Kindergarten.

Just before we all moved on to primary school, our kindergarten teacher gave each of us kids picture books that she thought we could relate to.

I got given a book called "Michael". I haven't been able to track it down anywhere online. I'm pretty sure it might be somewhere in my parents' roof. If I ever find it, I'll scan it.

It was about a kid who didn't pay attention to his parents, dressed like a punk, and didn't do well at school. He had this obsession with drawing rocket ships.

One day, he disappears from class and he's out the back of the school in the garbage. Everyone gathers around and tells him that he's a freak. Then suddenly he pops up with this rocket ship he's built out of junk and one of those metal garbage cans.

The last page shows Michael blasting off into space. The last sentence in the book was "we always knew that boy would go far."

That was something that always kind of stuck with me. Since my formal diagnosis and subsequent treatment, its something that always pops into my head whenever things are getting a bit rough.