Kapricious
New Member
Quinn's lips tug up at the corners in a surprised smile. Most people his age don't like all of the things Noah listed, and much less, they wouldn't admit it. "I'm not good at anything but reading. I tried writing but... I'm no good. I'll probably be a librarian or something." Quinn swallows down his discomfort at admitting his own inadequacies. It's hard to say it out loud to someone else rather than let it keep repeating in his own head-- you're not good at anything. Reading is a hobby, and that's all. Reading is something kids pretend to like when new teachers ask them their after-school hobbies. Quinn knows that last part isn't necessarily true, but it enters his head anyways. "And I'm a music snob. I would probably be a hipster if I tried to fit into any cliques. But I don't bother." He feels a bit better, adding that last bit. Books are his life, but he had room to fit in countless piano and guitar lessons until his fingers cracked. Quinn hasn't touched the instruments in months, but his iPod is constantly being handled. He's got no creativity, no drive-- there's no point in using the instruments if all he can do is replay somebody else's work, again and again.