You Have a Talent for Not Focusing

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✮ Offical Spacey Soundtrack ✮

Staring you, [Name] [Lastname]

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Staring you, [Name] [Lastname]

[Name]'s Theme: Moon River , Frank Ocean

Extra:

✮ Saturn , SZA
✮ Kids , Current Joys
✮ Things to Do , Alex G
✮ Advice , Alex G
✮ Lovers Rock , TV Girl
✮ Yume Utsutsu , Lamp
✮ Moonlight On The River , Mac DeMarco
✮ Show Me How , Men I Trust
✮ Only In My Dreams , The Marías
✮ From The Subway Train , Vansire


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Now Playing : Kids , Current Joys
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You've always been a bit...out there.

Spacey, your step-mom calls it. She's always been kind about your habits of zoning out, day dreaming.

When you were born, you didn't cry. You stared up at the nurses with only curiousity, your father always tells you. Unnaturally calm.

And you stayed that way.

You sleep a lot too. It's always nap time to you, and you're somehow always tired. Your dad found you napping in the pantry once, as you had fallen asleep grabbing some scooby snacks.

Concerned, your parents took you to a few doctors. All of which came back with the same results from their various physical and psychological tests.

"She's perfectly healthy, I don't know what to tell you. Maybe she'll grow out of it."

As a baby, you never cried. You pouted and whined, but tears never left your eyes. It stayed the same as a two year old two, same as three- you just weren't changing.

This started looking worse, actually. At a certain point, you seemed not just tired, but completely exhausted at all hours of the day.

At this point, your parents were scared for your well being. They were scared for how all of this could affect you growing up.

They were scared because they had no clue why this was happening.

Until they did.

"Mommy."

Your step-mom turns, facing towards your door with a curious look on her face.

"Yeah?"

There's some rustling of clothing and a sigh. "Help please."

Thinking maybe you got caught in your pajamas again, the woman just smiles and walks over to your room.

She really didn't expect you to be stuck to the ceiling by your fingers.

She screams for your father, and he stands there perplexed as you dangle from the ceiling light. How you got up there is a complete mystery and how to get you down is something none of you can understand.

The fire department comes, and they can't identify what has you stuck, but it would take acid to melt it off, which is an immediate no.

A fireman, your parents, and yourself wait then.

An hour passes.

Then two.

And suddenly, you're falling asleep as your fingers begin to de-attach to the baby blue paint.

Your father catches you, and the fireman suggests going to a quirk doctor. Your parents are hesitant to agree because of their past experiences, but need any sort of closure possible.

And now, including your habit of drifting off, you have a quirk that lets you stick to walls.

Great.

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