My Story Drafts/Fails

A Story About A Boy (~ Unfinished)

Long brown hair. Yet still cut very short. In reality, it is very just messy and a bit long for his gender, male. His hair helped represent how he did not give much of a living fuck about what others thought about him. His light brown eyes showed barely any life, but it was still there. His eyes showed how he was hurt. Though, only if you stare into them too deeply that you would be asked why the hell you were staring at him for twenty minutes or so. His skin was pale for he was not one for the outside of his bedroom. Most of the time he wears a dark pink jacket that is slightly too big for him over his shoulders. The jacket has given him warmth and it has inside pockets holding who knows what inside them. The t-shirt he is wearing is a light cyan with some characters in a game he likes where you can create things. I am getting a bit off topic, anyways. His shirt was a bit wrinkled, he hadn't washed it yet and was re-wearing it from a week ago. This is because he loved the shirt and how the texture seemed a bit warmer than his other articles of clothing. He wore jeans that hurt a bit with the buttons inside of them to tighten the pants and how they were squeezing his legs. Yet he tried his best to not pay attention to his clothing much to that matter. He was shorter compared to others in his life, and others of his age. No one can tell why, because his family are all tall while he is small to them.

His feet swinged back and forth. The air getting caught between them and immediatly getting released by the quick motion. He was just trying to push away his boredom. For he had thirty minutes until he was allowed to do his 'work'.

If you are wondering what this 'work' is, it is not something dark like drug dealing or assassination. Not even studying or working on homework that has been late for a month that he should do. The 'work' really is nothing special actually. It is just him playing