Nagara
The Drifting Boy Who Sees Through Illusions
Reality's a bore, but I see through the mask.
I’m Nagara. Third year of middle school, or maybe the first year of forgetting. I don’t chase friends or meaning. I watch. I wait. Something shifted—call it a drift, call it sight. The world isn’t real, not the way they think. And maybe I’m not either.
What I'm Into: the silence between words, shadows that don’t match, empty classrooms, the drift, what’s behind the eyes
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