The most difficult part in being a barely adult child, is having to fancy the younger boys.
Not that it is a preference, as this would only be a mere consultation with fate. To try an earn something to compensate my lack of reason in accepting and dive into the pool of years. By now, I should be reading books and argue on typical social concern, rather than playing cards and games.
Could have been the fact that I have always side myself to the wall. Rejecting the instant make-believe wishes while letting the teeth falling dreams seep into my thought. My childish thought.
Or the look on my face that screams 'Hi! I'm almost 20 but I look, smell, act and talk like a 14 years old. Ask me a stupid question'.
I should probably stop going to the fruit. The stupid smiles and putrid smell of tobacco do not make me feel better.
Stupid child.
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