Did you know that every person is as unique as a star in the sky? I’m not kidding. Every single human being on this planet is as different as every star a trillion miles away.

that.

If you came for a story like this, go on and move away. Shut it down. This isn’t the place for that. That is something some stupid- teenage, angst-driven poet-wannabe would write. Cliche and driven by the motivation to be motivational. Not by true goodwill. But to want to inspire others to boost themselves. 

And that saying isn’t even true at all. Every star is the same. It’s made of the same material, in the same sky, being looked at every night by the same kind of human eyes. Dreamers. Believers. These eyes. The people with their own heads up their . Not like you and me.

I guess the only real similarities between us and the oh-so-magical stars are that they too are all “born” at different times. And die at different times. And so, in the end, the only thing bringing us together again is life and death. 

Which is, again, a ing cliche. 

The only difference here is that a star can’t feel the despair of living and the relief of death. So in a way, there is something magical about being a star: ignorance of the world and all the bull it has to offer. 

Now to contradict my beginning statement (because let’s face it, I’m a . I know you can tell). I wish that we could all be like the stars. At first, maybe we are. We don’t know anything about the world. About people. About the hardships. About the deceit. None of the troubles of the world are made known to us until much, much later. When we’re already in the world. We’ve already made a life for ourselves and have gotten accustomed to being here. No, I wish that before we were born there was a little man with a contract that we had to sign. A contract to explains just how ing terrible the universe is. I wouldn’t dare sign that thing.  

But, I guess what I’m trying to say is that until we figure it out the hard way, we are like stars. Shining bright until we combust because our image of the world had been completely shattered, torn up, and buried alive. 

For me personally, I shone brightly in the sky until my junior year of high school. Just sixteen years old. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You know the look. The I’m-the-ing-best-on-the-planet-because-I-can-drive-now attitude. Yeah, I told you earlier I was, and still am, an . 

Well, don’t you worry your pretty little heart. This definitely got what he deserved. 

To say I was privileged would have been an understatement. I was ing loaded to an extent that I didn’t know paying for gas or food was an actual issue people faced. I thought it was a myth. A literal myth. 

I also didn’t realize that I personally wasn’t loaded, my parents were. And that they could cut me off at any moment. Did you ing know that? It’s not illegal! Parents can just stop giving you everything you want as a form of discipline. The ing disgrace. 

Now, don’t you ing know I needed it though. I probably still need a good kick to the crotch or something honestly. I still . But I’m not as bad as I was. I mean, it’s only been a year. How much different can I be?

 You’re probably wondering how bad a sixteen-year-old can get and why I claim I’m different now that I’ve graced the mature age of seventeen? Well, dollface. Let me paint you a picture. 

I bought Yeezy’s just because they were expensive and I wanted to say that I had a pair. No, I didn’t like the way they looked. No, I didn’t wear them. Yes, they are still sitting in my closet in the box. 

I bought a Lamborghini, yes a new one, the day I got my driver’s license. No, I didn’t ask permission. Yes, I crashed it 3 weeks later. No, I didn’t feel bad. 

I destroyed our multimillion-dollar home by throwing a party. Yes, this was the same night I crashed my car, I needed to destress obviously. Yes, there was underage drinking, , and drugs. Yes, things went wrong. 

That night I tried alcohol for the first time. I bought it exclusively for the party to give my large group of friends who definitely didn’t want to try it but did it anyway because I made them. That night I woke up in a hospital after almost overdosing on the drug. That night my very best friend in the whole world did not wake up. 

I killed my best friend. 

Now if we were talking about stars, he definitely was one. He was bright and funny. He was kind and generous, buying things not for himself but for those he cared about. He was going places. Real places. He got good grades and was going to make a name for himself without his parent’s money. He was the most ambitious person I had ever met. And for some reason, he always stood by me and kept up with my crazy. If I jumped off a cliff, he definitely would have. And I knew that and took advantage of it that night when I dared him to drink 2x the normal amount everyone else was doing. He didn’t deserve to have an like me as a friend. He shouldn’t have died that night, I should have. 

I wanted to go to jail, but when you come from the rich that doesn’t happen. Not with daddy’s money flowing through your veins. My parents paid off every single kid and parent from the party. They paid off the hospital and cops. And worst of all paid off my dead friend’s family. 

From here they obviously cut me off. I mean, why would they not? I was a legitimate murderer. My mother wouldn’t even look at me anymore. My father, man he hated, probably still hates, me. Not for killing a kid. No no, never because of that. But for wasting his money. 

So they sent me away. As in across the country away. To a new school to start my senior year. After the incident, they paid off my school to let me skip junior year but still advance. Who knows how much they paid off this new school to let me in. 

They didn’t want me being connected back to the scandal (but I think it’s to not connect me back to our precious little family) so I even had to change my name. And my hair color. And it was suggested to me to change my personality but we’ll see how that goes. 

So now I’m here. At Pleiades School for Boys. Woo-ing-hoo. Do you know what a “Pleiades” is? A cluster of stars found within the constellation Taurus. I’m literally going to a star school. Ironic? 

It’s the night before my first day, and I’m here. Writing an entry in a therapist ordered journal that I’m supposed to ship back once it filled. To make sure I’m not psychotic or sociopathic. Which let me save you the trouble mister or miss therapist: I’m not. I may be a little bit of a narcissist but everything else is totally normal in this good ole’ brain. 

So I’ll see you soon whatever your name is in my next super exciting entry that will 100% prove that I am normal. Just an murderer about to be surrounded by nothing but for his senior year. 

Much ing love, 

Jihoon Woozi

PS: I have a roommate. I hate him. His name is stupid and I may kill him. Not literally. Is it sad I have to specify that?