I made the bed this morning, swept the floor, prepared lunch, washed a mountain of dishes in the sink, did fucking everything while you just made a mess and you wanna complain that I chop the carrots/onions/garlic too slow, complain that my beehoon was tasteless, complain fucking this and that and throw your stupid tantrums around in the house. Fuck lah. I wanna move out.
"There's no place like home". Fuck it, it's bullshit to me.
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