I hate every game. I not in a good mood, not like I was ever in one. Every single goddamn I play everything can kill me in one hit. Every single f**king game. I writing this in pure rage. I so badly want to break something or punch something and yell. But everyone knows that if I start doing that I'm going to be yelled at, making me even madder than I am now. I don't care any more. Punching something would make this rage go away and then I might actually be a bit more happier. Why am I even writing this? It's just making me more mad than I already was. F**k you James! F**k you!
YOU ARE READING
The Life of Me pt.1
Non-FictionThis is my life, and the pain that comes with it. My story, and the loneliness that rides on it. This is the other side of StolenGiant, and there isn't a way back from it. So if you want to hear on how sucky my life is, read it. I honestly don't car...
