Romantic supernatural comedy, bitch. ._. Just for fun. ._. --- What defines a human, really? Feelings? Emotions? Rules? Pitiful trends that deem you 'popular'? "Quincy, check this out! One Direction is performing tomorrow at the stadium!!" I was right. Petty social trends will always keep me from revealing who I was. For the truth is bittersweet, and it comes with consequences. ... Like having a million girls hump your leg begging for you to sparkle in the sun for them. ---- Nobody likes a complete nerd who's fascinated with literature and computers, who likes to hide inside their crush's locker to be 'one' with their soul. A shallow façade would aid me in my quest to be 'normal'. That was what I hoped for, anyway. The shrill voice coming from the girls' bathroom arose suspicion inside me, and as if on instinct, I stepped forward. Reality pulled me back as I realized I was about to go into the female specimens' private room. I am not ready to see undeveloped breasts. They will taint my eyes and my male sex drive. No longer will I ever search the internet for pictures of kittens. I shall hide in my closet... Forever. "Quincy! COME WITH ME TO THE ONE DIRECTION CONCERT!!" "NO, MEEEE!" "NO, SEXY MEN GO WITH SEXY WOMEN, AND YOU ARE NOT SEXY." "Coming from a girl who has to put on tons of makeup to get lai—" "QUINCY, FUCK ME NOW." Being blunt is an understatement. In these situations, I would've blown kisses at them like a Korean Justin Bieber, but unfortunately, I don't like having girls rip my shirts off. Nor do I like having whores with tissues stuffed in their trainer bras rub suggestively against my hips. "Ohhhh, girls, girls! You can ALL have a piece of me tonight... Just let me grab my Axe body spray—" RUN, QUINCY, RUN YOU GOD FORSAKEN DEMON. ---- Short update? .-.