inept

my sister wrote a romanticized paragraph for me to use as my about me section."His wispy blond hair fell down over his forehead, as he carefully strummed his wooden guitar, the notes seemed to dance through the thick air. The music had a rhythm, perhaps it was the beat of his heart, finding a way out. Often I would find him humming or whistling made up melodies, churning his thoughts, investing in the people everyone else would ignore. His loves were many, and his hates were none. No better friend could you have.He lives along the winding Arkansas river now, being the sunshine of the south. :) " -steen