He was the kind of person who helped strangers out of mud puddles. He deliberately left a trail of chaos everywhere he went. He was constantly trying to find the meaning of life at the bottom of a scotch glass. He knew that smiling at you would get him out of trouble every single time and you loved him for his self-destructive streak that mirrored your own.
Hello you, do you still think of me? Everytime I take a shot of soju, I silently raise my glass to you as well. Even now you are still my favourite mistake.
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