I fought with my friend. (Life)

Well, not exactly fought.

But still, fought.

Life is hell.

Sure, i did tease him now and then, but it was a friendly tease. Of course he somehow got angry at me so I did it more cuz I was angry as well.

Life is hell.

Fuck the world.

He sings in class. I hate him for that. Not only that he sucks at singing, but I also asked him to stop singing on multiple occasions. Of course, he never listened.

Stupid ass motherfucker.

His fucking ego is bigger than mine, which ain’t small by whatever standards.

Why the fuck did I become friends with him? Why?

Why must my life consist heavily of false choices?


Why is my life a pain?



Of course, the math teacher, Mrs. JI, had a talk with me, and I really didn’t like it and liked it at the same time.

Life is a bitch.

Life’s hell.

Why the fuck am I even alive?

Why the hell am I even born?

For pain? For wounds? For scars that wont go away?


Words alone cannot describe the pain.

No one understands me.

Everyone acts like they can.

No one does.

I appreciate the kind heart, but no one truly understands me.


No one understands the murderer inside of me.

No one knows about it.

No one knows the brutal me.

Once they know they say I should surpress it.

No one understands me.

Life is a continuous pain.

No fun, no luck, no success.

No life.

My life is not what everyone says what life is.

It is not.

Had firearms been allowed in south Korea, I would already have killed myself multiple times.


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