A/N: This is sort of related to my fanfic, but it's more like a separate part to the story? (but it's still related to the story.) I just decided to write a chapter on how Yoseob feels, and what goes through his head.   I guess its just to help you guys understand how he feels everyday. I hope it helps you guys to relate to the story more, and I just also wanted to write this because I'm feeling emotional. Well, here it goes. 

Yoseob's POV:

It's funny, the life of people. 

You get born. You go through pain throughout your whole lives; meet a couple of people who screw up your life. Just when you think it can't get any worse, it does. In life, you have two types of luck; good luck, or bad luck. Good luck, you live a decent life. Bad luck, you're screwed up. No matter how hard you try, you're like a butterfly trying to escape a spider's web. No matter how hard you try, you just end up getting more and more stuck. And then, for everyone and everything, there is an end. 

I don't know what family is to me anymore. I don't know whether it ever meant anything for me actually. My memory is sometimes a blur, and I panic when I can't remember things. What's wrong with me? Am I sick? Or am I just stupid. Of course I am. 

People say that as time goes past, things become better, you get used to things. Wrong. Yes, I might be numb and empty now, but when I look in the mirror I see no life. No soul in my eyes, and my body is limp. Perhaps being dead would be better. 

And then I feel bad for pitying myself, because I'm so ungrateful. At least I have a father, even if he hates me enough to spit on me. At least I had a childhood, even if all I remember of it is being alone. At least I grew up with a education, despite being picked up every single day.

At least I had an opportunity. 

I think I'm a waste of space, I don't deny it. I don't do anything with my life, perhaps because there is nothing to do with it. What could you do with someone as useless as me? 

I wake up early in the morning, my eyes swollen from the tears last night. I should be tired as I've hardly had any sleep, but I'm used to it now. I try to avoid mirrors, because seeing my ugly face is enough. I ignore the scars on my body, and wear my invisible protection around me. It takes me a couple of hours to actually get ready to get out of the house, because I feel like if I go out unprepared I might crack. 

Sometimes, I like to take the bus and watch other people live their life to the fullest. Usually I don't have enough money so I end up walking. Walking, walking, walking. Sometimes, I walk until my feet are filled with blisters, because I go on and on. Walking until I meet an end. 

I like the darkness, and yet I hate it. I accept the cold feeling of loneliness, yet I shiver at it's touch. It is my enemy, and my bestfriend. 

I'm talking inside my head again, aren't I? Talking to myself is something I do everyday. I think all I do is that. 

There are two sides to me. There is a bitterness inside me, one filled with so much hatred that it scares me. The one that makes me want to punch a wall, scream until my lungs explode. Screw this, I say to myself. You don't deserve to live; nobody loves you. Why bother living when you have no purpose? Do it. Do it. Do it. 

And then there is my other side, one that has a light so small that it's hard to even see it sometimes. It's faint, and it's losing the battle. But it's still there. Even though I know that it will one day lose, it somehow comforts me, having that little light. 

Everyday, I'm fighting a battle. A battle against society, the ones who have hurt me, myself. A battle I am losing. 

I hate everyone. Everything. But mainly, I hate myself. 

Why did I live. Why did I kill her. Why did I end up like this. What have I done to deserve this?

Everything. 

My head is in a ramble, a nest of confusion. I don't even think half the things I think even make sense. Of course, why would the inside of my head make sense when everything outside my head is even more screwed up?

I usually come back late. No, I'm not afraid of the night because day and night is the same. I can't even say the word home. What is home? Isn't home a place where you belong, a place where everything is safe?

Nothing, no where, no one is safe. I deliberately avoid human contact now because of this. Humans are the most scariest, because you never know what people might do. They might be your closest friend one day, and the next be the reason of your pain.

It's time to go to sleep now. I've almost forgotten what sleep feels like. I wish I wasn't afraid to go to sleep, but even in your dreams you aren't safe. Especially in your dreams. 

I'm sorry for having been in your life.  I'm sorry I was such a nuisance to do that you felt like you had no choice but to hurt me. I'm sorry that you had to disappear because of me. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry I was born. I could go on and on, but the list would never end. 

I'm sorry.