I was in like third grade when I was assigned to write a short essay comparing two pieces of writing and exposing a common theme. I chose The Mask, by Shel Silverstein, and Richard Cory, by Edward Arlington Robinson. My paper was titled, Does Richard Cory Wear The Mask. At the time I had not yet realized that feeling this way was uncommon, and it was strange to me that none of my classmates seemed to understand what I saw as a fundamental point of existence.
Yeah, nobody else understood it in the slightest. I loved to read, and was already consuming highschool level novels in mid elementary. My aunt gave me two or three Shel Silverstein books, I’m not sure where I came across the poem Richard Cory.