I just couldn't stand to have all the mistakes I had in the first thread, so I'm reposting. And yes, there is a second chapter included ᏰEУ⚙ИᎠ ✞ℍE Ƥᗩ❡ES ⅅɑy 1 I have become aware of someone watching me. It feels like I cannot escape the stare of this person. It's like I'm an open book. Of course, someone like you would think of the saying when I say that, but that's not the case. I mean that literally. I have come to the conclusion that I am nothing more than a book character. A person scrapped together by some aspiring Writer's creativity and imagination. I suppose most people would feel terrified to have a pair of Another's eyes glued to their backs, but I am not. In fact, I feel somewhat relieved that someone is interested in me enough to watch and observe my every move. Hello Reader, my name is Noah Mars. I am fifteen years in age and about five feet and three inches tall, so even eighth grade girls tower over me. I have glasses thick as the sole of a boot and hair equally voluminous. As far as I know, I am the most uninteresting person I've ever met. Not that I've ever necessarily met myself, as that would be silly, but you get the picture. I am the typical nerd, with outstanding grades and no social life whatsoever. Never in my life have I had a proper friend, except imaginary ones of course, but they are, after all, imaginary no matter how fond I am of them. In the past, I wished I had been born with some sort of mental disease to have a reason for my inexcusable state. But to my displeasure, I had not, leaving me wandering for some sort of goal in this telltale "life"; a reason to live this sad existence of mine. Now I wonder why my Writer made me like this. I feel so foolish; too weak to be the main character in even my own story. Why hadn't I been written as a charming man, saving beautiful damsels from gigantic towers, giving no thought to reality at all? Or even some handsome, charismatic teenager in a school life drama, falling in love with a shy-but cute- girl? As I can currently make no heads or tales of this matter, I definitely hope my story is not all in vain. ⅅɑy 2 Today was exactly like every other day. My waking up rendered my fantastical realities to nothing more than mere dreams first thing in the morning. What a sad way to start the day, isn't it? I blindly stumbled through my morning ritual, first basking in a baking hot shower, followed by slipping into my oversized day clothes, then finally fumbling through the fridge for something edible to temporarily quench the low grumbling in my hollow stomach. After that was school. It droned on and on and on. Period after period. Math, Spanish, wood shop, English. Piles upon piles of useless homework. How useful is this information I'm forced to memorize day in and day out anyway? Not very much I'd say. What nonsense. Do they have school like this in Your World, Reader? Or are they filled with interesting things actually worth learning? I don't believe I've spoken a word all day. Most people would believe a freshman nerd like me would get constantly bullied, but that's not the case with me. I'm invisible to every eye inside that school building. I get pushed and bouldered out of the way if I'm not careful enough. It's like they don't even see me. I wonder how it's possible to not register a physical being right in front of One's eyes, but to most, that's exactly what seems to happen. Well, I suppose that last paragraph wasn't true. There is one person who bothers to notice and converse with such a pathetic person as myself. Her name is Kiara Blackbird. She has long, crimped, silky-looking, brown hair and big brown eyes. At about 5 feet and six inches, even she is taller than me. Now don't get the wrong idea, my dear Reader, I promise you that this will not turn into some sappy romance novel anytime soon, as far as Kiara goes. She is my first-and only- friend and I have no intention of ruining that anytime soon. But today, she was not at school. I heard a rumor that she was sick, which was probably right. Kiara is a rather sickly girl, she's never been strong enough to do much. Or so she tells me, anyway. I've only known her since elementary school, but I suppose that's long enough. She doesn't really talk much, but without her, I'm lonely. Today was a lonely day.