Love at First Old Shoe | jιnĸooĸ

001.

People are always bragging about enormous things and never the little things in life. We complain about the dumbest things while most times telling others, "If you only knew."

Okay, maybe I don't know. But, what is there to know when people don't put the effort in trying to make me understand, or even, take the time to share with me their problems?

Everyone sees things differently, from the way the world works down to how-

"Mr. Jeon, can you answer the question on the board?" the loser of a substitute asks me. 

"Fuck you," I say and lay my head back on my desk.

Oh, yeah. I didn't tell you all, but I'm one of those people who complain a lot and don't give a shit about anyone or anything. All that really matters in my life is me, myself, and I.

I lay my head on my desk hoping to rest up from being sore because I got caught in a lot of fights yesterday, but the students in my class will not shut the fuck up. I don't know if they're dumb, or simply brain dead. I don't want to listen to their crap, but I can hear what they are talking about.

They are being just as annoying as the guy who bumped into my shoulders yesterday when I decided to walk home after school instead of being picked up. 

Anyway, this guy was maybe between the age of 35 to 40 years old and his breath smelled toxic from all the alcohol he had been drinking before he had bumped into me.

I had told him to apologize, but he didn't; instead, he swayed back and forth while ignoring my presence as he walked away. I turned back to face the direction he was walking in, "Are you going to beg for your life?" I asked, my patience getting smaller by the second.

Hearing this, he had turned around with a smirk tucked at the corner of his lips. "Why don't you run home to your daddy, brat," he said and I felt my blood vessels popping.

My father is a topic that I don't personally talk about, and hearing the man speak so casually about him, pissed me off. I got angry to the point where I punched the ugly out of him. And since he never saw it coming, he fell to the ground with a long thud, his face collapsing to the ground first.

I thought he would have stayed down, but what he did next was really pitiful to watch. He got up from the dirty ground and advanced towards me with his fist, barely standing on both his feet. I had easily grabbed his hands and twisted them and only then, did he knew how to beg for his life.

In the end, I had chosen to let him go because I wanted to be a Good Samaritan, just this once. Well, that and after punching him a few times in the jaw. But, honestly, it was not his lucky day.

The majority of the teachers and students at school know who I am, so while some stares at me with disgust, some stares at me with admiration in their eyes.

Right now, as they whisper to each other about how rude I am, I can feel some kids glaring at my back while some are drooling either from jealousy or envy.

Time after time people seem to have a fixation with bad boys and I don't understand what it is that they really see. For instance, some people believe that boys like me are fascinating because we don't give a fuck about anything and we defy everything that others tell us, but that's not the case, at least from my perspective.

"Oppa," I lift my head from my desk and glance around the classroom. I wonder how long I was caught up in my headspace because now almost all the students are out of the classroom for lunch period and the very few who stay in the room are either chatting with friends or eating. Either way, I don't give a fuck.