Philocaly:

In just a short day, I'm finally discharged from the hospital and I walk out of the medical building and I'm just about to cross the street until a car blocks the walk way. 

It's a black Mercedes-Benz. The car window is pulled down, and I see the annoying man from class winking at me from inside the car. He holds out a bouquet of flowers and they appear to be an assortment of tulips. I take the flowers from his hands and take a quick whiff at them. 

"I was just about to go see you," he says smiling. 

"Well, you've seen me. Now, you have to get out of the way so I can cross the street."

"Get in the car." 

"Why?" 

"I'm going to give you a ride."

I shake my head.

"I'll just take the bus."

"Not in that condition."

"I'm fine." 

The tension rising in the air is not as subtle as it could be and for a moment silence falls upon us.

"Don't be so stubborn.. just get in the car." the silence is broken by him.

I shake my head firmly.

"I'm okay, I can get home by myself."

"You're not okay!" he informs me tightly.

Okay... I haven't been okay in forever.

The word slaps me violently. I pause to catch my breath but I can't seem to do so, I bite hard on my cheeks, my eyes stinging with tears. I slip down the sleeves of my shirt down to my hands and wipe my eyes. I gulp down my saliva to prevent myself from choking. Thoughts, negative thoughts race through my mind like crazy and I can't keep track. The world is spinning and I am unable to catch up.

... Suicidal... Gay... Ugly... er... Waste of life... ... 

No... No... No...

The pace of my breathing speeds up and my lungs hurt.

He's just like everyone else..

I clutch onto my bag and I run for it, I sprint around the car, crossing the street. Havoc breaks out and every one is honking while I dash across telling myself not to look back. I can hear Wonwoo shouting out my name but I ignore it. I turn countless times counting the amount of streets there are until I reach my home.

I break through the gate open the door to the little den of what I call my house and I throw my bag across the room listening to it slam against the wall, I crumble down onto the small mattress on the ground and I feel like I'm going hysteric and just a few words said will cause me to shatter. My hands are shaking as I bring them up to my head. My legs are scrunched in so close to my body while I sob into the sleeves of my shoulder. 

I try to convince myself to stop but I am panicking and I can't gain control. I am traumatized and I am scared. I am being tormented and I can't bring myself back to reality. 

Images of all the people I've had to encounter in my life spread all around my brain like an outbreak, filth.

I hate all of them.

I pull up my sleeves and the blood from all the cuts are beginning to cake and I whimper like a helpless dog at the sight of them and I fall onto my back staring up at the ceiling. The pain of mental torture and physical discomfort infusing together to hurt my own well-being. 

Get me out of this hell hole, please. is what I say and want to beg to whoever is listening.

I want to be with my parents and I hate everyone. All is ugly.

I space out, calming down slowly. The tears sticking onto my cheeks making my face all sticky. The ceiling melts into a blur and I slowly fall into an unwanted slumber.

To you,

Take my advice and don't trust people.

---

The same agonizing nightmare that I've had growing up plays like a movie in my head.

My mom is lying on the ground with a pool of blood spilling in large amounts below her, my father's hands lying lifelessly just right next to her, his body laying on his side. Two gunshot wounds framed in their abdomen. Her beautiful face looking more flawless than anything in the world, a smile spread across her face, my father looking sharp and dashing as he always was. And there I am in the corner, shaking in paranoia and fright.

The next image is myself sitting down on the stairs with the red and blue lights flashing in the background.

Life was unfair, my life spared, my parents' lost.

Soon, I see my abundant years of suffering, the news was tragic making the headlines of newspapers and appearing as the first segment on news programs every where on TV. My parents were the well-known, prosperous owners of Traega Incorporated and many people came to mourn at the funeral. But no relatives of mine had come. So, according to law there was no choice but to send me to an orphanage due to the fact that no one would legally accept me as their own.

I was unwanted.

I spent one year in the orphanage before I escaped due to all of the physical abuse I experienced there. I dragged myself along the streets, sleeping in grimy filth every night, starving myself as a failure to find food. When I was of age I took up many jobs for my own sake and to live. I cleaned restaurants, bathrooms, etc. took up jobs such as being a cashier and on top of that I had my education to worry about. I reapplied at another school immediately after my escape and attempting to forge documents of my parents. In a few months, I was able to save enough money to rent the small den of a house. It can fit one small mattress, a dresser, a 15" inch box tv. The one I reside in currently.

Kids at school began to recognize me as the child of the parents who were murdered and I was never invited to play with the other boys, and no one shared the kindness they did with their friends to me.

I had no friends.

In high school, it went further, the cold shoulder I once recognized had become insults and I was assaulted by many boys in the class. I was bullied and even . I was proud to be able to keep my excellent and outstanding grades but I still lacked in the sense that I would never be protected or loved by anyone. Then, I started to think worse of myself, I cut myself for the first time on July 11, 2014. No one seemed to take notice, I kept to myself making sure to not establish any relationships with anyone. 

Like they would anyway...

When I was younger, my parents raised me to enjoy the beauty of life and the company of others but that disappeared after the cruel treatment I had received from others, I sought for help but no one wanted to give it to me. I became independent but I went through stages of anxiety, depression, that soon started to take over my brain and thoughts. 

I don't know when my life will end. The clock is ticking and I'm waiting.

---

The following day after the incident, I show up school avoiding Wonwoo, he tries to apologize and explain himself when I sit down at my desk but I decided to pay no heed to his excuses.

Nothing is okay, I know that in myself. I've already lost my mind.