~ нυg мє • ѕσρє ~

σиє

Life is hard sometimes. I know that. But what's harder is knowing you're sinking and unable to cry for help.
Not like anyone would come.
My name is Min Yoongi. I'm seventeen years old and I'm what you'd call a loner. At my high school, I have no friends. I'm just sort of ignored, even by teachers.
I... like it that way.
I don't have to live to their examples. I don't have to force myself to fit into the mould everyone created for me.
It's freeing in a way, I suppose, but everything has its down sides.
For example: There was a guy last year whom of which I thought was hot. I asked him if he wanted to hang out sometime and he completely ignored me. Maybe he thought I didn't exist. Maybe I don't in his world. Maybe all the popular people don't see us the same as we see them.
Quite unfortunate.
I'm over it now so I go to school with no issues. No one knows if I skip or not. No one cares if I'm absent.
I'm not here.
As I pull on my hoodie, I sigh. Maybe this will hide how fat I truly am.
I hope so.
I grab my things and grab a bottle of water, creeping down the hall silently. I don't want to wake my father up.
I exit the house and begin my long walk to school, the sun barely peeking over the horizon and the sky still stained an ugly black and blue, like a bruise.
As I walked, I began thinking over the last few years and I sigh softly.
I've been sinking into a hole I can't escape and it's hard to even say this to anyone. It's like I'm frozen in space, time not moving, every moment the same as the last; nothing changes.
It hurts.
Time doesn't exist (did it ever?) and I can't stop this never ending cycle.
No one cares enough to help me and it gets worse and worse...
Maybe I'm better off dead.
I've been thinking of this for awhile and it honestly is the best option for me, I think. I'm wasting my time and their space and oxygen just being useless.
I walk into the school building and just head to my locker. Might as well be there. Pretend I would do my school work. It's not like the teachers will grade it anyway. They never do.
That's okay.
I head past my locker and up to the roof of the school. I've heard of people smoking to get over things and tried it once. I do it every so often, when everything gets too bad. Today was one of those times.
I light up the cigarette and put it to my lips, sitting against the wall of the school, hidden from everyone's eyes.
No one would see me and be disgraced by seeing me with my head tilted upwards and eyes closed as I smoke.
It's better this way.