He was never the kind of boy to skip rocks across water in agony.
He never said what he wanted.
He never pretended to know what he didn’t because naturally he was clueless. He was a pair of eyes and that’s almost all he was. He was only good at two things being compromised and being beautiful. He didn’t have to be good at feeling because he had no choice than to feel this chronic and ironic feeling of facing the horrific existence that he was eternally bound to.