CHAPTER FOUR: RUMINANTE
✰
❝VERB:
to deeply think about something.❞

✰
THE PAST WAS A STORY we often told ourselves. A hideaway leading up to mystery, knowledges, contradictions, and a tale of stranger things. From there, sanctuaries, and eruptions transpired; indecisivee and extravagant warfares contaminating the human species, and society's convict. We as entities dwelling on this converge of a planet called earth, we knew, that we do not have the same power to control the future, much so take responsibility of the historic past we created out of sin.

Out of curiosity, we are not chosen. a sample not just from the devil, but the darkest of demons possessing us. Screaming and crawling up from the depths of our spine, and making their way upwards, they latch onto the cords leading to our brain and twisting it with false statements and pints of voice activating sensors.

However, there come a time, where a woman who will be culminated and stand elegantly upon her two feet, appear forward to declare openly toward the socialites of the commonwealth, whilst also watching her past lover who is registered to be dangled by the neck in mere seconds, drowning of the evils he unfolded. for she has lead on, gazing down from her throne, eyeing the injured man that was struggling to break the glaze.

"there was always a mysterious side of me that wanted to love you, just like you once cared for me. then, i've received another side that deeply craves to despise you, for what you did to me as well. however, i can't find a way to make that happen. it was inconceivable. nonetheless, a cheater will always linger a cheater until he or she is shredded undress and of wickedness and desire."

December 15th, 2013.
- ̗̀ ❐ Busan, South Korea ❐ ̖́-

━
DEAR DIARY,
GROWING UP in a secondary borough of Busan, South Korea, I have observed many things that no youngster at my generation, or any interval of existence for that matter should see. Dating back to [1] The Gun-Down of Seoul, South Korea, [2] The Daegu Kidnappings, or [3] The Fallen Dystopia of Pyeongchang-gun ( also known as The 2004 Massacre of Pyeongchang-gun ). Not only have I witnessed The Massacre, my parents themselves seen it happen and even went on to depict stories about their experiences.

However, this was when karma stepped in, took two 'not-so-innocent' innocent lives, biologic parents of eight kids to an action of sorrow, incubation and need. Many people have said that my parents shouldn't have been the ones to die from the outbreak, but me. News spread like wildfire and around town, my siblings being included, I was the one of the last kids to be saved from the fire, and right before the fire in our, at the time, Conacul Casei de Carti, a mansion located the private part of South Korea, had spread, I could vividly recollect disconnecting myself from the outside world, hearing my parents and siblings laughing, while enjoying their own lives and playing various games -- mostly Monopoly.

Looking back now, I sometimes let my mind slip away and wonder what if's through my vulnerable state of unconsciousness; why would they even save me, and not themselves first? They had so much success and wealth, while I hid away in the shadows. Was i really that important to them, that i could not just have stayed back and die -- much so burn to death?

Yet, I knew, if it was one thing; that I was nothing compared to my brothers and sisters, or anyone else born into the bloodline of our family. I was that talentless family member that always stayed out of family events because they had no special abilities whatsoever -- unless, you count ruining good relationships, and making everyone else hate them at first glance, or the said word that pops out their mouths, then yeah.

Such talent.

But in gifted wise, no. To them, I was the incomplete and useless opposite of everything they had going on. I haven't been blessed with good looks like my brothers, or appealing attitudes and grace like my sisters, or inherited the smarts and speech like my parents or grandparents. Most jobs nowadays didn't accept me because of my looks and how they didn't fit their standards, or what they are trying to sell.

Pity. They pity, but also despise me. My grades at school were horrible, despite all the studying I've been doing and effortlessly being put in. The boys and girls in my school -classes included -would constantly laugh at me as I walked down the halls. I always told myself that they were surprised to see someone like me walk down, dressed in the same attire worn over everyday, probably even filled with holes, patches and stitches, along with a cheap bag used for failed homework and assignments. Some in which that have not been handed in, because there was no point in my success.

Now sometimes, when they really wanted to hurt and offend my feelings about my family experience, they would point their fingers in my walking direction, laughing and say; "How are you even related to them -your own siblings, to be exact? You both have the same parents, yet you look nothing like them!" Then as we grew older, my siblings and extended family members grew apart. They didn't accept me. My brothers and sisters all started joining many after school clubs, while I stayed behind, and left alone in my void of disparity.

I never knew why, but I couldn't bring myself to hating them. It was the first thought, that not only were the only family I had left, but right now, it was something about them that drew me away. Then, as high school season came out of the box, new friends started coming and going, or just walking out because they found something more pleasant and ambiguous.

And worst of all, they started finding themselves; planning out what they will do after finishing school, or when they graduate. Except, after their first year, they all audition for some company, and then later on, into the end of the first quarter, and early sophomore year, they dropped out to proceed onto their own personal dreams.

Which now brings you all back to me; my story. A sample of not just my life, but the inside of a corrupted mind that I lost and how much struggle is put in, along with the exception of self-hate to self-love. This was me. A young, seventeen-year-old, broke and struggling teenage boy, fighting to make his life better, while also trying to earn some money for food and to pay rent.

That's right. I live alone.

Honestly, I wish I could just drown in toxic waste, let the gunk emerge my body whole, and slowly sink. Furthermore, when I thought my life couldn't get anymore worst, a certain someone from my past was indeed of a new supplement to work and test out. A pawn to manipulate and deploy.