When I was younger, I desperately wanted to make friends. I’ve always been a little socially awkward and have only begun to get anywhere near remotely good at making friends. At the tender age of 9, I began to start telling people that Jonathan Taylor Thomas [or JTT as most of us knew him…] was my cousin. It lasted for a few years, then I grew bored of it and began developing more social skills.. but it’s something that’s stuck with me for awhile, though mostly as a joke.
However, I have never flat out declared that Jonathan Taylor Thomas isn’t my cousin.
So today’s #truthursday? Jonathan Taylor Thomas is not my cousin.
This is a true story, though.. in 8th grade, I made up a lie about how I got this scar on my leg when I was playing hockey with my (notreallymy) cousin. I held to that story so tightly that I now have no idea how I got this two inch scar on my leg. My instinct is to say “Jonathan Taylor Thomas gave it to me!” but I’ve never met him.
In conclusion: JTT is not my cousin, but he was/is? fricken cute. I’ve been waiting a long time to declare the latter.
