I don't believe I'm anything special, and I don't mean that in a self loathing way because I quite like myself, but I don't look like those boys that my sisters want to marry in 20 years and I can't juggle or play the guitar or juggle multiple guitars. But I do like myself, I do, I just don't attract attention or interest from anyone really.
Sure I have lots of friends and people I used to go to school with smile at me in the halls but I don't feel all that important, you know? I don't know. I mean, in tenth grade Amy from science told me I was attractive in a candid-polaroid-photo kind of way. I have no idea what that means but I do know that her best friend Bryn nodded and that is why I do not think Amy was right about me because if I had a polaroid camera I would use all my film on candid shots of Bryn and that is because I, along with almost every other boy in our grade (except for, ironically, her boyfriend) believe that she is the most attractive girl we have ever seen in real life.
On another note, I don't know why anyone would want to take a candid polaroid photo of me.
YOU ARE READING
No Idea
Teen FictionI don't know what I'm doing but maybe it will all work out I hope to continue writing this, whatever it is, in the form of a daily journal type thing, belonging to a boy named Nathan. Bare with me.
