Your life isn’t even something to complain about. You say you’re “stressed” but you don’t even finish your homework. So what are you doing, my friend, that’s making you so stressed? You flirting with lots of guys? Putting on only half of your clothes every day? Pretending your butt is so big? Acting like your parents are so horrible? Is this all you’re stressed about? Yeah, I probably shouldn’t even be talking about this, because for all I know, you really could be stressed. But you’ve told me like everything, so why keep the secret of why you’re being stressed, a secret?

Trust me, I’ll believe you when I actually see some eyebags under your eyes, and all your homework done on time. You swear like your life is the worst, when lots of people would give so much to live like you.

You’re lucky I’m nice enough to not tell this to your face. Cos you’re a nice friend still. I bet you’d be pretty damn speechless, wouldn’t you? Or maybe you’ll feed me more of your bullshit.