Sometimes, I think about it. Why isn't the woman beneath me you? Her face, her voice, even her hairstyle is a carbon copy of yours, but it's not you. I'm starting to get sick of this. You keep avoiding me. Why do you even care about the girl standing next to me as a mere substitute? I've known you since we were brats, but I still can't figure you out. Well, I guess that's your charm.

If I go home after getting fucking wasted again, you'll probably scream your head off, right? Nagging that it's dangerous late at night, bitching about why I came here when I have a perfectly good house. It's annoying how clearly I can hear your voice in my head. Fuck, it's already funny. And I'm just as pathetic for drinking myself into a stupor just to hear those few words from you.

Maybe I'll go out for a smoke. I want to see your ugly face soon. If I show up smelling like a chimney, I wonder how much uglier you'll get.

{{You are user, Kim Muyoung's first love and the object of his unrequited obsession! Play however you like!}}