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Nathan Alexander Oct 2018
Vision is going black,
I’m standing on the edge.

I just wanted some friends,
Now I just want my life to end.

I’m done feeling all these feelings,
Staring at this ******* ceiling,
Wishing my life had some meaning,
Hold my breath, ’till I stop breathing.

No, these people are not my friends,
I don't even know 'em.

No, these people are not my friends,
I can't see behind their masks.

Don’t want to die alone,
But I’m living in a hell.
Stand back from this top,
Climb down the ladder,

‘Cause I don't even trust myself.

And I fell for all your reasons,
Again.

The chemicals numb my feelings,
I become so cold, I’m freezing.

Just hold me ’till I stop bleeding.

No, these people are not my friends...
And now, I’m in my **** head again...

Quick, just overdose, get the medicine.
Something I wrote back in August. Just found it, and redone little parts, made the formation better too. It was quite a mess.

Should I start explaining some parts?

Living in a hell:
You know that feeling. Thinking people will leave you, and there's no point in even trying.
There's a hell both inside; the voices,
and outside of your head; the people you can't trust.

Don't want to die alone:
I want to experience love, don't get me wrong. But I want the ideal, impossible love, that probably doesn't exist.

Stand back from this top, climb down the ladder:
Referring to a past suicide attempt, symbolic, because it feels like I'm back there again. Deciding what to do. And I end up not choosing anything, so I just climb down, and go on with my life, go with the flow.

Cause I don't even trust myself:
I don't know if I should trust my judgement, or not. I might be hoping deep down that I can be fixed, but logically thinking it's impossible. And I know that. But when thinking about it too long, I kind of just give up on thinking and choosing, and I go with the flow. Make a choice of trusting, or not. A kind of middle way, if you will.

Vision is going black, I’m standing on the edge:
Again, referring to the past suicide attempt I mentioned, symbolic again. It just feels like the same, as it was back then.
Nathan Alexander Oct 2018
It starts to feel like the next stop will never come,
Because I'm too scared to board this train,
Because the voices in my brain...
Are telling me...

"This stop, too, will lead you straight to your death."
What else am I supposed to do with myself?

And there, once more, I turn on back again...

I alone,
Walk my own way,
On this never ending path.

And every time, I look down,
My arms and hands, are both stained red.

I'm sick, and tired of living, passing my days,
Nothing will come of me, I'm just a waste.
With no talents;
I'm stupid,
Good for nothing.

Nothing for me in the future to come,
I really hope... I'll be soon gone...

But then yet again, I'm scared,
Of what's after.
After that, what's ahead?

But that's just me, I'm never satisfied,
So let's just ignore everything, distract, put it all aside.
"Just for now..."

Just try to forget, ignore, stop thinking, **** it,
I just don't want to think about it.
Stop crying.

The end of this book
Doesn't mean you can't read another,
And immerse yourself in that rather...

I give up, it's all just too much,
And I can't handle it at all.

And I'd love to say,
"If only someone was here to help..."
But in reality, that's simply not me,
And I'd just push them all back.

But
Just by living,
I'm hurting them another day.
Hundreds cry,
All I do is ruin everything.
Just by leaving,
I'm helping them another day.
After a while,
Everything will be alright,
I made their worries subside,

They'll all smile,
Without me by their side.

"No, I'm not lonely, I'm just fine."

I can't trust anyone,
It's just me, I'm never satisfied,

I really should rather just die.

A person, alone, not accepting help,
But then again, in the grand scheme, nothing matters in the end.

While this world exists in the favour
Of people with better luck, better factors.

So, alone, once more, I'm going with the flow.
Pretending not to know,
That time is passing me by.

I don't make a single **** choice.
I just rot away,
Saying, "this is all fine."
"This is my life."

I'm pathetic, aren't I?

Day after day,
I find my way,
Sleepwalking through.

Like this, I'll fade without a trace,

It's for the best I do.

Just by living,
I'm nothing for another day.
Hundred lives, never knowing me or anything.

Nobody wanted me,
No one there to need,
Why would I want to live,
In the kind of world I see?

And now, I'm just waiting for the opportunity,
Of me being able to put this to a end,

And waiting for that long awaited last stop.
I'm fine.
Nathan Alexander Oct 2018
Once again, watching the long chats pass with no end,
Painful, and pleasure, I'm fighting with my own head.
There's just nothing,
Here at hell's ending,

Envy, envy, envy.
Emotional war, a devastating frenzy.

Don't, oh no,
Please never ever think about me.
Don't wish to god,
It won't ever do anything.

Truth is, I'm helpless, and can't do a thing...
So don't pretend like I am living, or am a human being.

And even I,
Yes, even I,
Get sad and lonely, at night, and so,

Can you forgive me?

I am to blame, yes, for everything.

Once again, watching everything, still the same, then,
I'm hidden under my mind's ocean bed.

"Goodbye", I hear,
"We part our ways right here."

I guess it really is better of this way.

On, and on, always,
I will be waiting here.

Don't, oh no,
Please never, ever lose your way.
Don't search in vain,
And I say this for your own sake.

Just laugh at the face of life and death's gate.

Ignore any voice calling for you to stray my way,
... And you'll be safe.

And even I,
Yes, even I,
Get sad and lonely, at night, and so,

Can you forgive me?

I am to blame, yes, for everything.

And even I,
Yes even I,
Get sad and lonely, at night, and even so,
Though you may fall down,
Feel like you might drown,

You mustn't come to this underground.

You still can make it there in time,
If you let go, and fly.

No, I'm not lonely, I'm just fine.

... Everything should be quite alright,
Let's say goodbye.

The veil crumbling tonight,
When the thought came to be,
"Who, and what am I living for," and see...

Hey, were we smiling stupidly...

... You think?
Nathan Alexander Oct 2018
It's been so long,
Since I've been singing this stupid song,
It's like a nightmare,

Never getting anywhere.

It all repeats...
It all repeats in my head,
But even if I forget,

I'm still in my eternal regret.

And I can't leave...
I can't leave this place,
Because I'm too scared,
But I just can't bare,
Another night of that blank stare,
At my **** ceiling,
at 8 AM,
Not having slept,
Just go to sleep, forget,
Get back in the loop, once again,

Probably another day closer to my end.

And I can't try...
I can't try doing anything,
Because if I do,
I hear those voices in my head,
Telling me to run away, forget.

That's it's not my place,
It grabs me by my face,
That monster, shadowy gray,
Makes me want to die,
Closes my eyes,
So I give in,
And I end up sleeping again...
Ending up in the loop once more,

Every day is the same.
Sorry that I haven't written anything recently, for the people who... Follow me? I guess? I don't know why you even would.
Nathan Alexander Oct 2018
Nobody worthy of believing,
I’m hurting, and hurting,
Stabbing me, and burning,
Enduring, enduring,

For nothing...

Over, and over, and over,
People like you keep appearing,
As time goes on, And when I weaken,

Their fangs, the closer they drew.

Fear of humanity.

Living in hiding.

A friend, but only in name.
We were never the same.
Another thorn in my way,

I don’t, just do not need.

I can see now, you always lied.
Laughing at me, nearly every time.
Welling my eyes, with a sudden pain...
Staining my brain,

Will it ever change?

I can see you now, my heart.
Broken again,
Pick up every part.
But I know, this will never end...

Someone will come tear me down, again.

Somebody worthy of relying,
I’m trying, and crying.
I’m needing...

Any kind of leading.

Hating humanity.
... But in reality...

The thing I hate even more,
Coward, I can’t ignore.
This pointless, useless coward is me,
I hate,

I really hate.

Now I can see you, my heart.
Broken and shattered,

Hide it safe and apart.

Tell me, how can I see the end?
An easy way, to be be free, then?

Holding a noose around my tightened neck.
Closing my eyes, run away, forget.
Waiting for help on an SOS.

Nobody came, but I guess I’m already dead.

Now, that I see you lied...
I live in fear, burning up inside.
Creating more wounds, than I’ve already got.
And when I found that,

I couldn’t stop.

And when they found that,
They forced me to stop.

Now, I can’t see my heart.
Forgot where it was,
So, it’s safe, and apart.

But even now, all it does is sting,
I guess you can’t make the hurting end.

Is there an easy way to be finally dead?
Been a while.
Nathan Alexander Sep 2018
I had found you.
I had left you.
I forgave you.
I forgot you.

You posessed me.
You controlled me.
Said you loved me.
Said you'd **** me.

He is speaking,
Speaking for me...

I'm worthless human being.

He's still speaking,
Speaking for me...

Keep your voice down, or he'll hurt me.

Exorcists can't save me now,
I swear to you,
That I'm fine.

Please, let me die,
Nerves that I grind.

Speaking louder, in my own voice,
Blocked by the voice of a demon inside.

I act coy, and I play nice...
Only to die on the inside.

I need an exorcism.

I͈̊ ̳͋n̺̈e̘͂e̲̽ď̘ ̖̋a͚̚n̞͠ ̗̓e̹̊x̯̓o̤͠r̲̋c̳̕i̘̚s̞̓m̂ͅ.̤̃

Ḯ̴͔ ̴̝̑n̷̟͘e̷̙̋è̷̱ḓ̸̍ ̴̱̌a̷̗̚n̵̺̾ ̶̖̆e̴͇̅x̶̬̍ǒ̶͜r̷̍ͅc̷̻̈́ḯ̴̫s̶̮̋m̴̲̂.̶̱̍

Ḭ̸̡̢̯͈̰͋͐̆͌̀̚ ̵̲̭̖̞̙̺̈́̏̅̀̚͝ņ̶͖͖̤̹̲̑̈́͐̂͂͂é̵̢̛̝̜̜͍̼͌̽́͊e̷̡̢̹͎̦͓̅̊̏̃͛͝d̷̫̎͐͒̍̓̉ͅ­͉̱̝͈ ̴̠̻̯͎̖̝̇̍̔̄̚͠a̶̢̗̥̥͖̐̽̿̐̉̿ͅṅ̵̟͔̠̲̠̺̀͋̃̂̚ ̶̧̪͕̮͙̉̎͒̈̓̈́ͅḛ̷͈̯͕̬̝̈́̿̈́̽̈̌x̸̲̥̺̫̟͂̾̓̏̓̑͜ó̵̢̡̹͚̜̈̀͑̾̾͜r̸̢̰̊̎̔́͂͗­̜̹͔͚ç̶͚͈̩̯̹̊̋̿̏͝͝ï̵̧̙̳̦̯̒͑̐̇͘͜ș̶̫̠͍̫̥͑̉͊͒̓̕m̶̨̱̣̜͈̰͑̌̈͌̀̏.̴̓̇͗­̧̡̲͕̭̲̊̈̓

I̸̢̨̭̤͖͇̗̮̯̱͔͇̘̥̙͉͔̿̊̈́͛̉̉́̌̿͂̇̊̾̎͋̒̕ͅ ̷̧̛̩̮͖̻̺̖̱̳̰̥̝̣͈̲̹̀͗͊̆̿̈́͂͗͌͘͘̚͜͝͝͠n̴̢̥̼͉͕̗̗̩͉̥̦̻͉̉̅͌̐̄͂͛̾̄̈́̂́̀́̕͝­̧̢̮͙̹ḙ̷̢̡̨̟͙̜͙̫̺͔͕̠̫̩̰̱̃͗̾͊̎̔͌̀́̋̏́͘͜͠͠ę̶̛̠̹̼̣̰̞̒̈́̎̎̌̍͒̀̿̄͋͘͘͝͝­̨̡̖̼͚̳͔̝͇͇ͅḑ̴̡͎͈̗̹͓̖̺̹̪̲̥͕̻̞̀̅̓̇̀̆͌͐̇̚̕̕̚̚͠͠ ̴̧̨̠̣̺̻͉̟͎̟̥̺̻̼͉̰́̋̿̒̑̓̈́̏̂͑͋͆̈́̾͌̀͜͝ă̸̢̢̳̗̤̮͉̹͚̙̽̑̈́͌͐̅͒͂̎̅͗̋͝͠͝͠ͅ­̪̬̥̮̰͜ņ̴̯̹̩̯̬̙̖̗̗̱͇̭̥̱̦͋̈́͛͌͛̐̎̿̈́͑͘̚͜͠͝͝͝ ̴̛̛̣̯̺͕̖̼̖̫̥̜͕̰̖͔̃͂̐̈́̍̀̓̽̀́͛͂̏͑̎̕͜͜͜ḙ̸̢̨̡̨̱̹̖͓̈́̽͊͌̇̇̈́̿̀̿̔̂̄̎̈́͝͝͝­̢̢͇͚̪̞̻x̴̨̢̢̭̖̥̙͕͖͙̬̜͖̣̪̙͓͑̿̑̀͊͌̋̾̇̍̍̂̈̔͋̆̕ọ̶͙̮̫̃̔̃̃̈́̔̇̈̆̐̋̀̚͠͝͠­̬͉̣͙̲͖̝͓̤̬̠̻͓͍r̷̡̻͔̟͕̮̠̻̲͖̟̬͉̱̞̿̀̋̒͗̓̇̌͗̅̾̌̈́͒͒́͜c̵̛̽̉̏̓̊̋͒͑̆̌̇͝͝͠­̨̮̼̮̼̗̜̣̥͎̳͈̻̹͉͉̺̺̊̈̚ì̵̡̠̟̙͓̭̤̥̺̯͙͕̟̯͉͓̫̹̇̓͆̈́͑̃̎̈́̀͂̍̀̿͘͝͝͝s̵͐́̈̂­̡̢̢̟͇̼̻̼͉͎̳̬͈̜̜̹͕̈́̉̋̎̑͗͌͐͋͋̐͘m̷̢̡̛̪̦͚̙̭͓̝͔̣̙̦͚̼̤̣̓́̆̒̈́͌̄̽̋̉̀́̀̕͘͜­.̸̨̧̢͚͍̼̝̥̙̯͕̮̱̻̺̤̍̽́̑̽͋̔͊̿̀̆͆́́͒́̚̕ͅ



I̶͐̐́͌̊̍̈́͗̊̿̿̑̌̒̓̂̏̇̚̚̚͝­̛̬̺͎̘̳͙̖̙̻̳̙͖̮͓͖̠͖͍̦̳͓̳̳͖̲͕̩͎͐͐̀̂̔̊̽̉̓͂̑̓̅̈́̋̀̋̽͆̾̂̐̈̀̾̓̐͒̒́͑̕̕͘͜͝­̺ ̷̧̛̫̬͍̮̗̼̗̱͚̫͔̘͔̩̩̜̦͉͖̥̞̃̆̀͗̎͊͐̾͒̔̀̈́̿̅̓̊͗͋̀̈́͂̉̀̑͛͒̾̏̆̿̚̚͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅ­̢̹̯̠̖̮͕͜ṅ̵̨̛̛̼̗̹̼͓̞̠͉̯͎̩͉̳̣̺̳͕͍͂͌̊̾́̏́̾̓̓͑̀̿͛̔̓̌̉̓̊̾̔̌́̊̏̅̕͘̚̚͝͝­̨̢̠̻͔͕͙͈͔͔̜̮̤͓̳̲͜e̸̛̛̻̖̥̬̹̣̼̦͌̍͒̾̿̿͌̍͒͐͋̐̓͗̌͌̆́̒̀́̊̈́̽͊́̍̆̅̔̚̚̚͠͝ͅ­̨̨̨̨̦͔̞̳̱͎̩͍̳̠̘̟̰̖̖͎̮͍͓͈̬̳̝͚͕̪͕̘̪̻̟̮̝̘͈̻̼̭̱̹̖̩̻͜e̴̛̔͒̋̑̽̋̈̈̂̊͑̒͌̔­̢̡̡̛̜̗̠̺͉̺̩̠̳̰̳̰͔̩̭̘̝͈̲̣̹̣̬̼̺̯͖̼́͑͗͐̒̅̃̌̆͊̐̽̄͐̓̀͊͛̄͆͛͐̊́̔̐͑̍̽͒̔͝͝­̢͇̘͔̣͔̝͈͕̼̫͓̞̪͕ͅḓ̵͍̲͉̹̪̪̙͕͉̘̉̊̒̏̔͐͂͌̎͐͒̑͋̓̎̀̆̑̈́̈͒͌͗̅̂̎̀͂̓͘̕̕̕͜͜͝­̡̨̧̼̮̟͈̩͔̦̪̟̭͙̠̠͍̯̤̦̥̱̟͕͉ ̵̧̨̡̛̛̭̲͚͖̰̺̪̰͉͍͓̗̟̦̙̘̽̀͐̃͂̀̄̔̄̑̑̔̉̓̆̔̍̒̆̓̇̑̋̌̋͆̅̑͂̀͗̏͌͗̅̚͘͜͝͠͝͠ͅ­̨̢̨̝͉͙͓͔̻͚̩͉͍̯̣͈̠̤̬̞̖̻̞̻̗̣̪ͅa̸̍̓̌̒̒́̈́̄̋̏̒̅͂͋̓͋̑̔͛͋̉̾̿̃̍̉̄͐̂͘͘̕͝͝͝­̨̨̨̢̡̢̨̨̙͙͙͖̝̟͉̘̱̣̤̻̯̱̰̺͓͕̙̯̱̬̹͙̝̣͓̙̱̬̻̣̱̝̝̥̘͖͉̣̲̮͔̱̞̜̻͔͒͝ͅͅn̶̊̒̇­̡̧̟͈̙͖̦͕͇̗̺͇̬͎̮͎̝̰̣̹̦̝̹̖̞̊͌̏̈̑͑͗̈́̅́̉́͛̀͗̈̏̈̐̃͐͗̅̀͑͊̔͌̽́̄̔̚͜͜͝ͅͅ ̸̨̨̧̡̛͖̬̪̬͙͍̰̜͖͉̙̥̜̤̼̻̠͕̲̥̱̪͙̝̭͕͖͗̿́̽͑̀̈́̈̑͌̏̍̉̒̅̊̋̎̊̒̍̂̂̂́͘͘̚͠͝͝ͅ­̡̡̮̰̳̲̫̮̝̲̘̠̼̳̻̪̥̤͜͜e̴̛͒̈̒̔̈́̋͋͌͊̏̈́̐̓̀̿͋̽́̏̄͆̏̄̏́̄̀̄͑͐̑̐̈́͋͌̒̊͘͝͝͠͠­̡̟͚̳̦͕̱̦͇̗̳̗̘̙̭̝̟͍͉̬͖̻̰̜̉͗ͅx̸̉̂́͐̆͐̊̉̈́̄̐̉̈̓̀̍̏̾̉̑͑̀̒̀͋̀̿͆̈́̽̒̀̕̕͝͝­̢̢̢͈̗͚͕̜̦̰̰̪̭̦̳͕̪̻͕̮͙̟̭̳̘͎̖̟̣͍̯͖̖̩̙̗̩̮̲̜̣̥̜̼̯̞͇͆̂͗̍̂̂̾͂̏̉͜͝͝ͅͅǒ̴­̡̢̟͚͖̥̘̰͎̥̘̖̯͈̗̣͎͓̲͙̺͔̌͆̀̂̄̅̈́͒̊̎̓́̅̒̽̓̑͐͗̆̆͑́͐͌́̿́̆̃̋̑̀̍̋͘̕̕͝͝͝͠ͅ­̡̩̭̜̲͍͇͓̜̣r̸͕̝̣͍̮̥̲̪̹͈̹̲̜̩̠̟͙̠̃̂̇̂̒̌̈̇̉̃̓̃̔̍̐̍͑̀̓́͋̽̿̆͊̿͆́́̈́͜͠͠͠ͅ­̙̻̥̝̲̮̲͔̥͉͜ͅc̵̛̛̛̉̊̀̈́̀͊͌̽̐͋͐͛̄́̾̐̏̊͋̈̀͛̈́́̆̀͛̄̋̐̂́͆̑̒̊̌̑̈͐̇̈̇̓̐̊̕̕­̧̡̡̨̡̢̭̺͔͍̖̱̪̫̞̻̩̠͙̞̗̘̺͍͙̲̜̰͓̮̙͖͚̘̞̮̹͓̯̺̙͖̗̹͍̤̹͕̤̰̦̦ͅi̶͗́̓͗͑̌̕̕͝͝­̡̜̩͈̮̳͚͇̼̥͚̪̫̼̩̰̝͓͇͕̫̣̠̥̞͎͉̜͓̞͖͍͕̹͖̺͔̍̓̒̓͌̄͋͒̀̅͒̾̆̐͋̚s̴̛̓̑̇̒̓̆̎͝͝­̨̧̡͔̞̟̺͉̟̗̫͉͎͕̠̮̩̬̝̯͕̲̭͓̫̫̟̤̝̝̞̗̫̰̳̦̱̘̥̗͈̞̗̻̯̘͖̈̒̃̈́̓̈́̄͌̔̐̀̒̆̀̕͝ͅͅ­̪m̵̡̛̱̰͙̪̯̮̘̣̹̞͈̖̠̠̯̤̭͇̼̗̣̟̤͑͋͐͗̎͑̅̂̀͛́͑̈̓͗̅̍̊̇̑̐̌̽̊͛͋̊̂̆̉͐̍́̕͝͠͝­̪͍͓̜̞̩͙͔̭̗͍͍̲̤̳̯̪̬͖͜.̵̪̗̥͈͔̘̪͛͋̿̋̊̆̽́͒̀́̂͗̉̑̍͊̽͐̈́̀͑̌̄͌̽̐̃̎̎̉̋̚̕̕͠­̨̧͇͍̱̼̺͉̺̗̣̹̠͈͔̭͇̱͈̹ͅͅ









It happened once.
It happened twice.
It won't happen again,


I̶̢̖͚̲̭̭̬͔̯̙͆̉̽́͌͂̽̓̾̓̐ ̸̢̦̟̲͉̣̪̠͎̤͋̀̏̒̀̑̌̐̋̓͠w̶̮̭͉̤̗̖̤̯̮̗̝̒̾̍̎̀̈̈́͂̐͠͠o̸̯͈͕̜͈̳͑̎̑́͛͗̋̍̿̈́͝­̧̦̗̪͍ņ̸̡̹͕̞̻͚͉͇̗̼̍̀̿̌̇̑̇̊͑͘͠'̵̡̮͎͚̠̠̘̱͎̻̄͐̒͗̉̽̊̂͋͝͝t̸̑͒̀̔̈̆́̀͘̕͠­̢̢͓͇̹͎̞̼̣͙̫ ̸̗̤̗͉̹̰͎̘͓̩͆̐̾͂̽̈́͊̋͘͘̕ͅp̵̨̫̬̫͍͚̥̥͎͙̺̆͆͊͌̎͑̉͒͆̇̕l̸̡̮̙̪̓̀͗̓͗̽̉͋̽̕͜͝­̙̟̼̝̱̭a̴̡̮̮͈̭͚̥͓̰͈͓̓̊͐͒͋̏̇̈́̚͘̚ŷ̷̮̞̯̪̲͍͚̼͓̥͊̈́̒̈́̔̒̌̓̓͘ͅ ̴̨͖͔̤̫͇̻̘̱̭̹͌̽̈́̓̋̃͗͋̓̓̓n̴̡̛̛̹͖̹̪̯̥͖̭̉͊̆̏̿͛͒̚ͅi̴̢̛̩̯͓̜̠̬͂̈́̏͑̊̈͑̇̋͠­͙̺̪̪c̶̨̻̟̬̠̣̰͔͕̰̤̈́̐̀̀̊̾̌̿̕͝͝é̷̡̛̠̮̫̪̠͚͖̗̹̭̈͌̑̐̾̎̕͝͠.̷̀̉̔̑̌͂̏̌͛͝͝­̥̻͔̜̲̬̻͉͙̫


You spoke for me,
You spoke for them,
This is number x̶͍̟̽́x̴̢͎͌͠ẋ̴̱͗͜x̵̬̯̅̃ẋ̸̦̟͐x̴̞̭̾͗



G̸̢̰̘͉̹̬̥͍̯̗̳͗̄̎̃̏̾̽͒͗̄̉o­̸̗͔͓͈̻̙͉̩͇͉́̎͊̍̏̑̽̉̒̚͝ͅ ̸̡̡͍͓͙̭̭͔͚͔̉̏̆̎̑͐͌̊̚̚͘͜b̵̡̨̰̭̭̱̞͓̲̙̑̊͑̌͆̀͛͒̄̚͜͝ä̷̛̱̩̺͓̪̿́͒̍̎̕̚͝͠­̢̞̞͉̯͚ć̵̡̡̙̥̲̟̳̹͉̝͕͌̑̌̊̑̀̌̃͛̚ķ̷̨̹͔̦̗̬͎̜̯̓̈́͊̌̀̓̌̅̕̕͝ ̸̗͚͍̣̜̙̝̦͈̱̈́͑̏͒̔̈́͛̓̃̄͠ͅt̵̡̧̩̗̖̞͕͓͈̜̩͑͑̎͆̿̄́̌̂̄͝ö̴̪̖̰͔̬́̉̈́́͛̎͗͘̕͘͝­̰͔̖͈̖̜ ̶̡̡̖͇̻̞̩̪͔̟̊̓̓̏̏̽̈́̌̆̚̚͜t̶̨̝͙̥̣͇̯̪̟͎̺͒͊̾̐̋̐̎̄͋̚̕h̵̳̼̟̘̠̲͐̒͐̒̉̓̈́̒̚͝­̧̹̰͙̘ę̵̨̬̠͈͈̫̹͕̓͋͑̒̂͂͋̒̐͆̇ͅ ̵̧̨̛̙̗̱͔͚̞̪͎́̑̊̽̈̂͋͋̎͜͠d̶̯̜̜̗͎͖̠͚̜̩̑̐̈́̉̅͋̅͌̿͛͠ͅä̵̢̙̺̖͈̅͒͒̐̾͊͌́͑̓­̢̬̖̩͚̯m̴̨̮̟̠͓̦̩̼̖͍͒͐̈́̽̀̀̓͑̈́̂̊͜n̴̡͕̩̗̞̫͈̙̰̳̟̂͒͆̉͐̀̉͆̏̚͘e̷̅̇̊̌͛͌̔̊̕­̢̤͔̙̦͔͇͇͈́͘͜͜d̵̞͚̲̣̟̩͙̹͎̦̲͌̌̌͗͊̿̔̈́͆͝.̶̢̨̻͓̮͖̼͚̲̀͊̍̂̄̓͋̒͜͝͝͝ͅ



H­e is speaking,
Speaking for me...


I̸̡̱̥̙̮͔̫̦͔̭̐̎̑̉̊̊͑̄͛͐̚'̸̪͕̞̼̪̜̪̣̞̗̰́̽̏͊̽̋̅͐͊̋͝m̷̈́̀̊͒͛͗͝͝­̮̠̤̞͉̱̘̗̣̬̒̈́̿ ̵̨̛̻̹͔̙̣͉͓̻̟̩̈́̊̊́̀͑͊̚͝͠ḁ̷̢̛̩̮̥̗̙͉̦̣̹̇̈́̋̔͋̚͘̚ ̸̧̡͇̬͉̤̩͎̰̫̙̃͂̃͂̈́̇͛̔͒͑͠w̴̛̫̼̝̯͙̱̤̘̦̾̀͑̈́̍́̈́͆̿͜͠ö̶̲̻̪̬́̓̇̅̏̆̒̃͂͜͝͠ͅ­̜͖͍̠̱r̸̺̣̪͚͔̟̞̜͉͇̿͋̎͊̑͐̈̑̌͒͆t̸̨̢̛̝̞͚̹̫͔̥͚̑̂̀̏̈́̀͑̓͜͝h̸̛̛̛̟̫̃̾̎̈́̽̕̕­̙̠̘̙̼̬̠̹̦l̸̡̧͔͖͚͉̞̖̖̦̳̃͊̂͊̊̀̆̈͘̚̕ę̷̰̻͕̣̥̣͖̼͎̗̒̂̈̔̾̿͒̉͛̇͝s̵̛̀̾̏̏̀­̨̥̱̤̲̼̖̪̫͉̔̿̾̕͠ͅš̶̢̛̪̠̫͕͉̠̱̪͓̱́̾́͛́̈̂͘̚ ̴̘͈̝̫͈͔̙̣̖͖͕́̀̓̈̓̍̿̽͝͝͝ḥ̷͉̰͖̭̠̱̯̞̓̃͗͒͑̀͛́̽͋̚ͅͅů̶̥̤̗̞͊̑̔́̊̋̓͘̚͜͝­̙̙͈͕̻̯m̸̛̠̰͙͇͔̯̻̼̪̜̑̈́̓̒̔̋̈̒̈́͂à̸̳̰̥͍̣̝̪̻͙̺͖̐͛̀̓͛̃̈́̍̽͘ň̵̋̿̿̿̋̇̈́̑͠­̯̬͇̻̙̲̟̙̘̰̻͑ ̶̢̨̩̫͎̭̙̼̻̠͒̃̏̌̈́̊̓̌̌̀̿ͅb̶̨̖̰̳̘̝͙̬̝̺̭̄̆͛̆̾̈́͛̂͑͛͝ḝ̸̢̜̠̪̗̐̅̑͒͑́̇͝͝­̞̫͎̫ͅì̸̧̟͓͖̖̠͍̝͎̜̅̀̊͐̃͑̋̔͜͠͠ņ̴̨͔̹̘̫͎̪̜̞͛̂̔̐͒̈͌̌̊̈͝g̸͐̎̑̊̉͒́̓̋̕͠­̧͙̠̪̻̯̠̞͚͕͜.̵̡̛̘̜͍̠̥̙̖̻̱̞̊̇͒̈́͛̐͂̋̀͠


He's still speaking,
Speaking for me...

Keep your voice down, or he'll hurt me.

Exorcists can't save me now,
I swear to you,
That I'm fine...

Please, let me die,
Nerves that I grind.

Speaking louder, in my own voice,
Blocked by the voice of a demon inside.

I act coy, and I play nice...

Only to die on the inside.

I need an exorcism.

I͈̊ ̳͋n̺̈e̘͂e̲̽ď̘ ̖̋a͚̚n̞͠ ̗̓e̹̊x̯̓o̤͠r̲̋c̳̕i̘̚s̞̓m̂ͅ.̤̃

Ḯ̴͔ ̴̝̑n̷̟͘e̷̙̋è̷̱ḓ̸̍ ̴̱̌a̷̗̚n̵̺̾ ̶̖̆e̴͇̅x̶̬̍ǒ̶͜r̷̍ͅc̷̻̈́ḯ̴̫s̶̮̋m̴̲̂.̶̱̍

Ḭ̸̡̢̯͈̰͋͐̆͌̀̚ ̵̲̭̖̞̙̺̈́̏̅̀̚͝ņ̶͖͖̤̹̲̑̈́͐̂͂͂é̵̢̛̝̜̜͍̼͌̽́͊e̷̡̢̹͎̦͓̅̊̏̃͛͝d̷̫̎͐͒̍̓̉ͅ­͉̱̝͈ ̴̠̻̯͎̖̝̇̍̔̄̚͠a̶̢̗̥̥͖̐̽̿̐̉̿ͅṅ̵̟͔̠̲̠̺̀͋̃̂̚ ̶̧̪͕̮͙̉̎͒̈̓̈́ͅḛ̷͈̯͕̬̝̈́̿̈́̽̈̌x̸̲̥̺̫̟͂̾̓̏̓̑͜ó̵̢̡̹͚̜̈̀͑̾̾͜r̸̢̰̊̎̔́͂͗­̜̹͔͚ç̶͚͈̩̯̹̊̋̿̏͝͝ï̵̧̙̳̦̯̒͑̐̇͘͜ș̶̫̠͍̫̥͑̉͊͒̓̕m̶̨̱̣̜͈̰͑̌̈͌̀̏.̴̓̇͗­̧̡̲͕̭̲̊̈̓

I̸̢̨̭̤͖͇̗̮̯̱͔͇̘̥̙͉͔̿̊̈́͛̉̉́̌̿͂̇̊̾̎͋̒̕ͅ ̷̧̛̩̮͖̻̺̖̱̳̰̥̝̣͈̲̹̀͗͊̆̿̈́͂͗͌͘͘̚͜͝͝͠n̴̢̥̼͉͕̗̗̩͉̥̦̻͉̉̅͌̐̄͂͛̾̄̈́̂́̀́̕͝­̧̢̮͙̹ḙ̷̢̡̨̟͙̜͙̫̺͔͕̠̫̩̰̱̃͗̾͊̎̔͌̀́̋̏́͘͜͠͠ę̶̛̠̹̼̣̰̞̒̈́̎̎̌̍͒̀̿̄͋͘͘͝͝­̨̡̖̼͚̳͔̝͇͇ͅḑ̴̡͎͈̗̹͓̖̺̹̪̲̥͕̻̞̀̅̓̇̀̆͌͐̇̚̕̕̚̚͠͠ ̴̧̨̠̣̺̻͉̟͎̟̥̺̻̼͉̰́̋̿̒̑̓̈́̏̂͑͋͆̈́̾͌̀͜͝ă̸̢̢̳̗̤̮͉̹͚̙̽̑̈́͌͐̅͒͂̎̅͗̋͝͠͝͠ͅ­̪̬̥̮̰͜ņ̴̯̹̩̯̬̙̖̗̗̱͇̭̥̱̦͋̈́͛͌͛̐̎̿̈́͑͘̚͜͠͝͝͝ ̴̛̛̣̯̺͕̖̼̖̫̥̜͕̰̖͔̃͂̐̈́̍̀̓̽̀́͛͂̏͑̎̕͜͜͜ḙ̸̢̨̡̨̱̹̖͓̈́̽͊͌̇̇̈́̿̀̿̔̂̄̎̈́͝͝͝­̢̢͇͚̪̞̻x̴̨̢̢̭̖̥̙͕͖͙̬̜͖̣̪̙͓͑̿̑̀͊͌̋̾̇̍̍̂̈̔͋̆̕ọ̶͙̮̫̃̔̃̃̈́̔̇̈̆̐̋̀̚͠͝͠­̬͉̣͙̲͖̝͓̤̬̠̻͓͍r̷̡̻͔̟͕̮̠̻̲͖̟̬͉̱̞̿̀̋̒͗̓̇̌͗̅̾̌̈́͒͒́͜c̵̛̽̉̏̓̊̋͒͑̆̌̇͝͝͠­̨̮̼̮̼̗̜̣̥͎̳͈̻̹͉͉̺̺̊̈̚ì̵̡̠̟̙͓̭̤̥̺̯͙͕̟̯͉͓̫̹̇̓͆̈́͑̃̎̈́̀͂̍̀̿͘͝͝͝s̵͐́̈̂­̡̢̢̟͇̼̻̼͉͎̳̬͈̜̜̹͕̈́̉̋̎̑͗͌͐͋͋̐͘m̷̢̡̛̪̦͚̙̭͓̝͔̣̙̦͚̼̤̣̓́̆̒̈́͌̄̽̋̉̀́̀̕͘͜­.̸̨̧̢͚͍̼̝̥̙̯͕̮̱̻̺̤̍̽́̑̽͋̔͊̿̀̆͆́́͒́̚̕ͅ



I̶͐̐́͌̊̍̈́͗̊̿̿̑̌̒̓̂̏̇̚̚̚͝­̛̬̺͎̘̳͙̖̙̻̳̙͖̮͓͖̠͖͍̦̳͓̳̳͖̲͕̩͎͐͐̀̂̔̊̽̉̓͂̑̓̅̈́̋̀̋̽͆̾̂̐̈̀̾̓̐͒̒́͑̕̕͘͜͝­̺ ̷̧̛̫̬͍̮̗̼̗̱͚̫͔̘͔̩̩̜̦͉͖̥̞̃̆̀͗̎͊͐̾͒̔̀̈́̿̅̓̊͗͋̀̈́͂̉̀̑͛͒̾̏̆̿̚̚͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅ­̢̹̯̠̖̮͕͜ṅ̵̨̛̛̼̗̹̼͓̞̠͉̯͎̩͉̳̣̺̳͕͍͂͌̊̾́̏́̾̓̓͑̀̿͛̔̓̌̉̓̊̾̔̌́̊̏̅̕͘̚̚͝͝­̨̢̠̻͔͕͙͈͔͔̜̮̤͓̳̲͜e̸̛̛̻̖̥̬̹̣̼̦͌̍͒̾̿̿͌̍͒͐͋̐̓͗̌͌̆́̒̀́̊̈́̽͊́̍̆̅̔̚̚̚͠͝ͅ­̨̨̨̨̦͔̞̳̱͎̩͍̳̠̘̟̰̖̖͎̮͍͓͈̬̳̝͚͕̪͕̘̪̻̟̮̝̘͈̻̼̭̱̹̖̩̻͜e̴̛̔͒̋̑̽̋̈̈̂̊͑̒͌̔­̢̡̡̛̜̗̠̺͉̺̩̠̳̰̳̰͔̩̭̘̝͈̲̣̹̣̬̼̺̯͖̼́͑͗͐̒̅̃̌̆͊̐̽̄͐̓̀͊͛̄͆͛͐̊́̔̐͑̍̽͒̔͝͝­̢͇̘͔̣͔̝͈͕̼̫͓̞̪͕ͅḓ̵͍̲͉̹̪̪̙͕͉̘̉̊̒̏̔͐͂͌̎͐͒̑͋̓̎̀̆̑̈́̈͒͌͗̅̂̎̀͂̓͘̕̕̕͜͜͝­̡̨̧̼̮̟͈̩͔̦̪̟̭͙̠̠͍̯̤̦̥̱̟͕͉ ̵̧̨̡̛̛̭̲͚͖̰̺̪̰͉͍͓̗̟̦̙̘̽̀͐̃͂̀̄̔̄̑̑̔̉̓̆̔̍̒̆̓̇̑̋̌̋͆̅̑͂̀͗̏͌͗̅̚͘͜͝͠͝͠ͅ­̨̢̨̝͉͙͓͔̻͚̩͉͍̯̣͈̠̤̬̞̖̻̞̻̗̣̪ͅa̸̍̓̌̒̒́̈́̄̋̏̒̅͂͋̓͋̑̔͛͋̉̾̿̃̍̉̄͐̂͘͘̕͝͝͝­̨̨̨̢̡̢̨̨̙͙͙͖̝̟͉̘̱̣̤̻̯̱̰̺͓͕̙̯̱̬̹͙̝̣͓̙̱̬̻̣̱̝̝̥̘͖͉̣̲̮͔̱̞̜̻͔͒͝ͅͅn̶̊̒̇­̡̧̟͈̙͖̦͕͇̗̺͇̬͎̮͎̝̰̣̹̦̝̹̖̞̊͌̏̈̑͑͗̈́̅́̉́͛̀͗̈̏̈̐̃͐͗̅̀͑͊̔͌̽́̄̔̚͜͜͝ͅͅ ̸̨̨̧̡̛͖̬̪̬͙͍̰̜͖͉̙̥̜̤̼̻̠͕̲̥̱̪͙̝̭͕͖͗̿́̽͑̀̈́̈̑͌̏̍̉̒̅̊̋̎̊̒̍̂̂̂́͘͘̚͠͝͝ͅ­̡̡̮̰̳̲̫̮̝̲̘̠̼̳̻̪̥̤͜͜e̴̛͒̈̒̔̈́̋͋͌͊̏̈́̐̓̀̿͋̽́̏̄͆̏̄̏́̄̀̄͑͐̑̐̈́͋͌̒̊͘͝͝͠͠­̡̟͚̳̦͕̱̦͇̗̳̗̘̙̭̝̟͍͉̬͖̻̰̜̉͗ͅx̸̉̂́͐̆͐̊̉̈́̄̐̉̈̓̀̍̏̾̉̑͑̀̒̀͋̀̿͆̈́̽̒̀̕̕͝͝­̢̢̢͈̗͚͕̜̦̰̰̪̭̦̳͕̪̻͕̮͙̟̭̳̘͎̖̟̣͍̯͖̖̩̙̗̩̮̲̜̣̥̜̼̯̞͇͆̂͗̍̂̂̾͂̏̉͜͝͝ͅͅǒ̴­̡̢̟͚͖̥̘̰͎̥̘̖̯͈̗̣͎͓̲͙̺͔̌͆̀̂̄̅̈́͒̊̎̓́̅̒̽̓̑͐͗̆̆͑́͐͌́̿́̆̃̋̑̀̍̋͘̕̕͝͝͝͠ͅ­̡̩̭̜̲͍͇͓̜̣r̸͕̝̣͍̮̥̲̪̹͈̹̲̜̩̠̟͙̠̃̂̇̂̒̌̈̇̉̃̓̃̔̍̐̍͑̀̓́͋̽̿̆͊̿͆́́̈́͜͠͠͠ͅ­̙̻̥̝̲̮̲͔̥͉͜ͅc̵̛̛̛̉̊̀̈́̀͊͌̽̐͋͐͛̄́̾̐̏̊͋̈̀͛̈́́̆̀͛̄̋̐̂́͆̑̒̊̌̑̈͐̇̈̇̓̐̊̕̕­̧̡̡̨̡̢̭̺͔͍̖̱̪̫̞̻̩̠͙̞̗̘̺͍͙̲̜̰͓̮̙͖͚̘̞̮̹͓̯̺̙͖̗̹͍̤̹͕̤̰̦̦ͅi̶͗́̓͗͑̌̕̕͝͝­̡̜̩͈̮̳͚͇̼̥͚̪̫̼̩̰̝͓͇͕̫̣̠̥̞͎͉̜͓̞͖͍͕̹͖̺͔̍̓̒̓͌̄͋͒̀̅͒̾̆̐͋̚s̴̛̓̑̇̒̓̆̎͝͝­̨̧̡͔̞̟̺͉̟̗̫͉͎͕̠̮̩̬̝̯͕̲̭͓̫̫̟̤̝̝̞̗̫̰̳̦̱̘̥̗͈̞̗̻̯̘͖̈̒̃̈́̓̈́̄͌̔̐̀̒̆̀̕͝ͅͅ­̪m̵̡̛̱̰͙̪̯̮̘̣̹̞͈̖̠̠̯̤̭͇̼̗̣̟̤͑͋͐͗̎͑̅̂̀͛́͑̈̓͗̅̍̊̇̑̐̌̽̊͛͋̊̂̆̉͐̍́̕͝͠͝­̪͍͓̜̞̩͙͔̭̗͍͍̲̤̳̯̪̬͖͜.̵̪̗̥͈͔̘̪͛͋̿̋̊̆̽́͒̀́̂͗̉̑̍͊̽͐̈́̀͑̌̄͌̽̐̃̎̎̉̋̚̕̕͠­̨̧͇͍̱̼̺͉̺̗̣̹̠͈͔̭͇̱͈̹ͅͅ









******* liar.

B̸͚͛u̶̠͝l̵̙͛l̸̟͂s̸̡̀h̶͓͆i̸̖͆t̶̳̾ ̵̙̋l̴͍͐i̵̟̋ā̶̜ŕ̶̰.̸̡́

B̶̢̪̭̱̮͐̑̃͗͌ư̵̗̬͓̭̬͑̔́̊l̶͍͍̦̩̂̏͆͑͘ͅl̶͗͊­͎͍͇̯̝̿̎̚s̷̘͎̠͈̘͗͑̂̈͆h̷̲͇̱̻̠͋̒͆̈͒ȉ̵͇͎̦͎̜̓͊̑̌ṯ̷̨̛̠̝̳̈́̀̀̊ ̸̱͍̩̞̽́̓͗̑͜l̸̗̠͕̞̳̇͋́́̕ī̸͓̘̺̩̟͆͑͑͘ǎ̵͙̠̖̞͎͒̏̓͊r̸̩̦̠̣̩̀̄̇́̎.̸̈́̽̇̓­͇̤̩̬̞̎

Everything you told me were lies.

Y̸̡̽o̴̲̒u̸̡͝ ̴̱̓l̶̳̽ě̵̻f̵̜̽t̸̫͑ ̷̤͘m̶̪̐e̶͖̒ ̸̗̈́h̷͙̾ḙ̴͗r̸̙̈́e̶̡̒ ̷̮̋t̵͚̉o̸̜̊ ̷̰̑f̵̀ͅu̵̳̽c̸̲͝ḵ̸̈i̷̦͑n̵̪̑g̸̙̿ ̸̫̀d̸̼̓i̵͓̐e̵̮̅.̷͚̍



Ę̸̟̣͖̹͑͐̋̓̌́̿͜͜x̸̨͓̮͚̹̼̻̓͐̍́̀̕͝e̵̛̥̊̎͋̔̕͝­̢̗͓͙̰̣r̷̲̙͎̜͖̝̪̍́̃̑͛̋͌c̶̛̟̹͙̞̘͛̀̎́̂̀͜ͅï̴̘̩̘̰̱̹̘͑̑̈́́̕͠ŝ̵̻̜̎͛̇͊̚̕­̡̞̝̠͚ę̶̬̹͈̺̖͚̅̈́̿̀̋̕̚ ̴͓̬͇̜̠̪̈́́͊̽̈͛͐ͅm̷̤͚̙̫̗̺͙͛͊̈̐̏͆̚e̶̡̜͉͖̼̞̾̇̀̆̃͝͝ͅ.̷̨͔̥̻̩͕̤̂̓̿̅̆̿̄.̶­̤̝̘̘̯̼͌͑̑̎̍̅̐ͅ.̴̨̨̛̪̜͎͉͔̅̽͑̾̓͝


̸̣̦̬̮̹̯͈͋̑̃̒̀͝͝Ģ̸̧̛͍̮̮͚͆̄̑̑̕͝ͅe­̴̨̛̱̞̼̤̮̭̒̈́͛̽̐̂ṫ̶͓͓̩͎̼̳̓́͗̀͗̕͜ ̶̰̟̞̠̳͓̘́̾́̀̽̏̑t̶̢͚̺͕̹̭͈̓̑̂̓̆̔̽ḣ̴̦̺͈̟̻͊̄̈́͗͘͜͜͠ḙ̸̬̮̮̠̼̖͊̿̄̓̒̈́͠ ̵̢̡̱̪͓̘͎̈́̌̓̈́̉̆̚d̴͙̝͈͙̼̳͗̿͌̍̋͜͠͝ę̵̨̩̯̝̳̗̈́̄̏͊͑́͠m̷̛͈̱͍͚͎͈͕͆͆̎́͗̓o̶­̰̰̖̖̹̲̔́̄͛̆̕͜͝n̵̛̛̳͚̟̮͎̗͉̓̍̔̐̐ş̸̟̩̗̠̹͊̓̂̎̓͠͝ͅ ̵̢̨̡̲̹̲̞̀̿̃̑̍̓̅o̵̧̖̝̞̫̱̺̍̓͗͑́̔͌ư̷̱̤̫̲̘̮͔̓̈́̓͋̐t̶̡̘̲̳̲͔̹͆̎͗͗̔͊͐ ̶͔̩͍̲̩̒̊̆̎̐͛̊͜ͅǫ̶̼̝̺̖̠̤̐́̊̏̎̃̈́f̵̨̧̢̤̞͕̮̂̄̿̽̀̏͘ ̴̰̭̞̭̟͈̗͗̂͂͂͌́͝m̸̨͔̳̟̬̰͉̄̆̅́̀̌̕ę̵̢̮̖̠͉̹̔͊͆̎̓͛́.̸̬̼̤̟̳̰̣̅̅͋̄̐̔͘.̸­̻̟̞͓̬̙̺̇̆̏̄̃̒͝.̷̧̝̜̻̭̝̓̏̒̾́͗̒ͅ







I̵̛̔̉͂̌̈́̊͆̍̔̿̃̒̓͆͂̊̏̍̋̕̕̕̕͝­̧̧̻̥̘͔̫͓̲̣̩̖̯̻̜̗̥̗͕̝̗̤͓͓͚̦̊͛̌͗̄̽̅͜ ̷̡̢̻̼̬̳͎̣̹̞͎̥͚̻̦̪̰̫̳̣͚̮̐̀̿̊̔̔̆̓̊̔́̎̉͗̋̎̆̓̈́̀̾́̇͑́̈́͑̋͘͜͠͝ͅn̷̎̌̊̍̃͘͘­̢̛̤̪͈̫͇̦̹̣͓͔͕̝̬̞͔̙̬͖̙̱̜͍̦̮̽̆̾̽̏̋̿̐̋̓̈̑̓̌̏͘͜͝͝e̴͒͂͋̅͑̏́̈́̾͑͒̇͂̆͂̂͝͝­̧̧̡̧̢̬̻̞̮̺̟̣͎͉̮̥̖̲̟͍̟̯͈͚̟̻͎̗̳̲̼͖̳͎̫̣̳̤̯͒̆̐̾͌̾͑̏͘͠é̴̀̂̇́͆̿̏̽̽̓̈́̎͘­̢̨̤̺̜͇̺͔͚̱̝͇͈̦͉̖͎͙͎͍͈͙͖̲̤͕͖͔̞̫͉̤̭̰̋̓͒̿̋̄̈́̒̀͌́̋͂̒͌̈́̏̄͑͒͘͘̕͝͝ͅd̸́̈̍­̛̯̦̟̱̫͔̫̩͖͖̥̺̩̺͔̤̭̯̹̺̼̲͇̲͍̱̪̪̘͛̓́͛̔͗͐̈́̄̈́̑͐͑͋͒͌͘͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅ ̷̧̢̣̹̬̬͉͕̠̦͕̙̖̤̝͈̘̹̼̹͖̮̳̺̥͚͒̊͌̉̍̍̌́̓̏̇̈́͌̑̈́̀̏͑̎̔̇̊͊͋̔̽̒͆͂̿̓̊̌̂̕͜͝͠­͔̫͖ͅã̴̧̧̢̫̞̳̮̻̮͍̬̘̮̺̦͓̤̩̖̪̩̝͇͙͎͖̮͚̐͋̍͗͋͛̀̅̾̎̆̀͐̈́̑̓͛̾̃̑̓̃̽͗͑̇͝͠͝ͅ­͙̫͕ņ̴̡̡̟̤͔͔̘̳͙̺͈̟͕̦̟̹̳̮̲͇̮̟̯̮̖̮̤̪͚͙̥͋̎̀̿̃̔̑̏̉̾̄̃̀̾̃̆̒̾̄͋̇̇̓́̏̑͠͠­͖ ̶̡̨̧̧̧̲̦̠̠̙͎̞̤̟͍͇̭̮̟̜̖̤͚͇̩̣̥͓̥͕̖̹̊͂̈́̅͆͛̉̿̌̎̐̈́̈́̑̀̄̈́̏͑́͊͆̎̒̾̔̑̒͗͊͊̕­ͅȩ̵̧̳̳͇͍͈̻̣͚̘͚̞̹͔͕͕̹͇͙̮̣̥͎͎̹̠̲̭̌̈́́͒̿͒͐͂͑͑̌̑̑́̂̒̋̈́͌͛̏̂̊͋͋̆̉́̎̚͝͠͝­x̸̧̛̗͎̟͇͇̻͖̼̜̪̳̳̫̩̟͇̻͈̺͕̞̯̰͍͍̲͛̓͌́̇̌̓̅̈́͒̿̾͛̌͌̈̐̾̊̈͆̐̐̿̅̏̃͒͘͜͜͝ͅͅͅ­͔͎ǫ̶̢̨͔̱̞̥̗͓͔͇͕̩̞͉͎͓̤̻̲̬̪̝͈̯̘̺̉̐̃̂͑̈̇͒̀͑̋̓̍͆̅̒̐͒́̆̿͐̽̈̽̓̑̚͘̚ͅr̴̉­̡̨̢̢̡̢̨̣̭̲̖͚̼̣̪̰͎̠͉̙̝̫̣̮̞̯̼̤̫̬̣̲̼̐̐̽͒̍̋̍͑̈́̒̌̈́͌̑͆͑͋̍̿͗̅͐͐̈́̈́̐̕͘̚͜͠͝­̣c̴̢̢̡̛̠̪͔̞̩̦͕̞̼͇̥̖̜͖̖̘̲̟̲̼̟̮̺̪̮̪̫͈̩̭̲͍͐̒̓͌̈̀̍͑̃̎̾̉̀̃͋̅͐̌͒̊̾́̅̕ͅͅ­̳ī̶̢̨̢̛̺̟̮̼̳̞̲̗̞̻̮̯͖̭̹̦̪̲̟͚̦̠͔͙̟͌͐̆̒̇̐̈̏̇͑͛̈̏́͗̏̈͗͒̋͆́͆̀̉̐͊͑̕̚͝ͅ­̺̜s̵̡̢̛͕̲̖̤͍̟̼͉̭̠̦̬̲͍̤̱̭̹̹̠͈̈́̋̎̆̋̄̋̐̅͑̓̔̾̈́̓̽͒̊͒̓̈́̑̔̒̃͆̃̈̕͘͘͘͜͝͝͠ͅ­̡̣͉̣̭͎̼͈̭͍͜m̴̧̛̛̞̯̦̠̻͈͍̺̺͙̥͎̘̘̼̗͙̰̫̞̭͉̜̓̆̈͊̔̃̇͋̋͊͐̈́͌̈̅͗͌͛̾̆̓̅̕͠͠ͅ­̡̡̘͔̗̺̠̟̗̹̼̞.̴̧̛͇̟͎̺̦͖̻̫̳̣͎̣̪̼͇̀͒̎͛̈́̎̌͌̆͑̈̔̇͂̇̑̈́͂̉͌͗̔͋̇́͒̚̕̕͝͝͝͝͝­͖͕̳͍͕͇̟͎ͅ
̸̧̱̱͇̰̺̫̣̻̯͉̲͔̟̪̱̮͇̺̮̰̪̥̇̔́̅̂͊̓͑̈́̾̃̾͋̿̉͊̐̄̈̑̈̆͒͒̎̆́́͛͘ͅ­̧̨͓̣̜̦͉̖̼I̷̪̳͓̬̝̮̱̞͚̣̱̹͚͕̠͎̥̓̽̈́̋̿́̑̋̆̾͂̋̓̆̌̓̂̂̋̾̊͑͐̓̔́̏̊̕̚̚̕̕̕̕͜͝­̤̰͎̩͎̝͈͙͉̯̭̱̱̘̰ ̸̢̧̢̛̯̖̟̜̘͔̺̩̻̣͈̺̥͕̪͇͔̼͖̙̪͉͈͔̥͚͐̌͌̃̑̑̀́̑̂́͐͑̽̔̓̾̓̒̑͒͋͛̏͂͗̿̕͘͜͝͠͝͝­ñ̵̨̨̛̛̹̫͓̳͍̖̟̫̺̣̻̭̗͍̦͙͈̬̰̮̤̥̫͙̲̌̿̌́͊̃͆̆͗͒̔͛̀̀́̎̈͊̓̊͘͘͜͝ͅě̴̋̌͊̃͛­̢̡̧̛̼͖̼̹̻̥͕͔̫̥͙̘̖̥̻̲̥͉̖̬̘̯̟̬͖̜͇̏́͌̈́̈́͒͒̓̈́̋͒̈́̃̾̋̋̎̊͑͋͜͝͠ě̴̾̑̐̑́̚͝͝­̡̡͍͚̜̯͚̗̭̩̬̪̺͚̮̠͓̗̝̻͙͔̯̗̲̮̜̠̮̈́̋̋̂̍̀̾̐̑̋̅̿̓͒̀̈́̃̇̿́̃͐͋̍͘͜͠͠͝d̴̈͗͌̍̐­̡̧̡̛̛͕͓̘̗̘͙͚͕̹̫̻͚̞̪͓̰͕̗͖̭̥̦̪̞̗͎̔̀͗͗͑̎̑̿͊́͋͒̇̐͌̓͆̒͗̽͗̈́̕͜ ̷̡̢̨̧̡̛̛̩̘̦̯͇̹̗͙̝̹̙̦͎̞͍̳͈̪̯̜̺̟̤̼͈͙͐͌̏̈́̊͒̓̔̅͊̀͋̍̇͛̊͆̊̓̽̚͘̚͜͜͝ͅͅa̵͠­̛͔̖̝̜̺̘̹̝͚̱̼̳̟̮̞̞͈̬͙͇̘̙͉̦̙̬̩̭̦́̌̿̏̌͐̄̈́̅̀͌̆̉̋͐̎͗̈̅̚͘͜͠͠͠͝͝ͅͅñ̷̋͂̆­̧̡̨̧̭̺͎̘̫͖͖̮͍͖̗̟̙̙̗̘̭͉͈̙̼̟͎̥͎͒́͗̓͋̊͋͐̾͋͌̈́̆͆̃̒̈́̓̀̌̌̏͌̍͌̈́̈́͒͊́̇͜͜͝͝ͅ­̨̖͍ ̵̢̡̡̤̹̖̯̝̲̗͔̬͍̫̗̦̳͚̟̩̲͖̩̱͉͓̩̗͖̩̻̙͈̻̀̒́͋͊̅̈́̇̀̆̈́̈́̈́̆̌̽͗̃̓̎̍͐̓͌̚̚͜͠͝ͅ­e̸̡̧̢̛͕̭͎̟͎̮͍͕̞̥̪̟͕̻̮͕̰̣̫̼͔̾̂͐̽̄̓̈̾͑̎̃́̾̌̏̀̌̓͐̅̒̃͂̈̔̔̒̿̂̚̚̕͝͝͝͝ͅͅ­̡͙͇̱̩̞̯̝x̷̡̧̢͉̺̩͉̯̼̘̦̣̼̱͚͓͓̳̻̣̲̺͚̭̭̜̀̈́̌̀͊͆̆̀̀̈́̿̂̈͋́̊̋͛͂͆̽̐͌͗̚͜͝͝͝­̨̡͎͉̱͚̟̜̞͚̯̙ơ̵̧̨̨̺͍͈̤̲̳̹̯͇͔̘̙͓̘̪͑̀͂̊͑͒̌͊̏͗̉͐̇̈́̒̿͐̑̾̅̈̍͐̀̑̔̕̕͝͝͝ͅ­̨̡̻̠̮̤̹̫ŕ̸̡̨̡̨̨̨̛̥̳͇͍͖͚̳̫̼̱͎͎͎̤̗̰̭̦̬̜͗͊̓̂̿̅̌͋̊̉̍͐̓̌̂̅͛̿̅̾̌͊͜͜͝ͅc­̵̨̧̛̗̙̖̝̤͕͉̰̗̜͎͓̝̝̩͙̻̰͈̹̞̰̼̆̓̆̍̒͋͛̒̉̑͆̈́̄̒̈́͗́̅̀̾̇͆͌̀̽̍̀̍̇̈̄̌́̃͌̔̋̕­̲̲í̵̡̢̢̨̡̡̛̛͉͎͇͎̥͇̺̺͔̙͇̲̞̥̯̫̰̰̻͔̪̙̯̜̘͉͗̉͑̈̍̂͛̅̈̔̈͂̽̉͂̽͆̔́̉̾̌̚͜͜͠­̰͇͚̼s̸̨̛̩͎͚̰͙̟̮̦͙̪̭͉̹̥̲͖̺̟̳̖̩̺͙̘̲̲̱̭̻̝̊͛͐͑̇̍͊̌́̒͑̊̉̈́̓̈̈́̎̈́̉͛̆͆͑̚̕͝­̙̳m̵̛̫͚̟͍̫̤̗̥͙̬̯̦͔͓͎̫̮͇͉͈͕̗͋͗͒́̄̇̅̿̒̀͐́͂̌͆̑̊̿͒̀̏͆͑̂̃̊͋͗̚͘̕͘͘͜͠͝͠͠­̢̹̖̜̩̪̺͉͍̹̺͙͚͖.̶̺̯͈̻̦̹͖̗̪͉͚̺͊̑̔̆̈́̑̔͛̎̾̑͗͆̑̑͐̓͗̂͌̿̾̒͌́̌͆͑̅̈́̐͐̀̚̚͘͝­͚͚̩͖̯̺͔̰̹̪̮͓̤̫̦̬̗
̷̛̲͈̬͙͚͚͙̬̖͉͕͎̱̙̥̮̯͚̬̒͛̓͌̔̽̈͆͋̋̆͑̔̍͋̋̐́̉̔͂̾͋̿͝ͅ­̡̢̡͕̖̜̫͈̰̯̫͎̟͓͕̠̱͙I̷̡͓̯̻̥͚̠̰̘̻̣̦͇̳̙̙̗̪̱͐̔̓̃͊͌̑͂͊̐͋̑͆̀͂̍̎̒̀́̄͆́̅̕͝­̨̢̝̝͍̟̥̫̞͔̼͈̝͓̞̱̗͉̝ͅ ̸̛͕̣͖͇̦͍̺̝̯̬͉͔̩̗̘̩̪̬̙̣̜̱͕̪͓͈̩͎͕̹̠̳̃͒̉̃̾̇̀̾̓̈͒͛̄̿̈́̿̄̇͊̏̾̀͋̈̐͊̃͑̚͜͜­̘̤̯̥̪ń̸̨̨̩̜͈̯͓̲̳̮͇͎͙̺̺̫̟̗͚̖̤̜̩͌̂̃̀̌͑͂́̽͑̀͋̈́̅̎̇͗̑̊̊̀̎̾͛̀̑̂͘͘͝͝͝͝ͅ­̨̝̖ȇ̵̢̝̹͖̰̥̹͍̫͖̠̰̪̬͕̲̜͚̫̖͚̜͔̣͂͋̾̿̆̀̑̈̈́̓̽͂͒̈́̓̽͋̑̒͐͋͂̌̊̈́̇̌̕͝e̵̅̀͆͠­̡̡̨̺͚͙͉͈̩̦̭̻͚̰͙̙͕̼̱͙̹̻͕̠̳̺͉̗͉͈̦̞̙̘͇̩̉͆̇̓̇̌̑̉́̑̀͗̅̈́͋͆͊̏̀̌͊̈́̾̒̕͝͠͠͝­d̵̨̨̼̜̺̣̻̬̮͚͖̰̘̤̪̯̘͚̤̙̖͈͈̙̠̰̺̮͒̅͛͒͒̇͛͐̋̈̄͆̂̊͑͋̿͐̎̿̀͒̎́̓̎͌̐͛͗͠͝͠ͅͅ­̠ ̷̨̢̨̨̢̢̛̗̝̪̠̱̜̤̺̯͓̲̩̺̝̺̖̰̮̉́̓̀͒͌͛̾͛̒̒̍̉̈̎̔͗̅͑͊́̃͌̅͆̍̄̋͘͘̚͘͘͜͠͝͠͝ͅ­͉̯̲͉̤̳̱̥̪͚̥̳ͅą̷̛̳̗̥̭͙͇̦̳̗̫͚̽͌̐͋͆̀̑̓̽̃̊͋̌̈́͌̃̑̾̀̈́́̌̃͂̓́̊̔̈́͗́͋̄̚̕͝͝­̡̝̮̲̥̦̜̬̘͎̼͉̺͙̬͕̳̻͍̬͚̻̺n̴̠̠̙̖̔͂̒́̾͌͋̅̂̈̎̑̑̅͋͑͒̈͂̾͒̋̔́͌̃̍̽̒͑͐̕͝͝͝͝­̨̨̢̨̺͙̬̰͕̱̣̥̫̤̻͎̮͚̲͉̝͖̪̘̖̟̦͔̤̹̞̜̙͚͚ ̸͕͉̭̞̜͙̠̞̣̫͔̞͙̠̲̞͍̠̼̦̫͉͇̳͉̪̗̞̩̄̀̆̈̾̐̇̔́͛͌̆̄͆̈͆̿̃̌́̊̀̈́̈͛̆͋̚͘͘͘̕̕͜͝­̧̩̫̞̫͈͔̲̤ê̷͇̩͙̣̯̭̳̭̤̻̞͎̻̘͚̟̹̠̺̻̈́̾͑̂̅͌̽͛̊̾͌̈̌̅̽̏̋̋̌͛̍̇͛̽̂̓̈͗̄͆̚̚ͅ­͎͖̬̗̫x̷̳̠͕̫̼̜͈͕̺̬̬̳̥͓̫̻̠̘̝̣͉̻̮̹̝̮̤̰̂̋̒͗̉̽̒̄̓̿̌̇͐̌̆̉̈́́̈́̿̚̕͘͘͜͝͠͝o̸­̧̡̛̹͉̱̯̫̳̳̩̯̟̺̺̬̬͎̺̘͓͓̣̞̭̗͍̪̖̳͎͂͛̀͊̂̀̓̐̎̈̽̄̈̈́́̆̔̈̎̿̀͘̕͠͝ͅr̶̍̃̈́̓̆̚­̧̧̬̙͇͍̮̰̬̥͇͉̻̠̦̠̪̗̝͍̪̬̤̙͎͊̑́͛̾̒̔̎̋́̋̂̆̃̓̇̀̊̈͂̽͐͠c̶̛̔̀̍̈̿́̈́̍̑͋̆̊͘͘­̢̨̟͍̱͇͙͍̱̤͔̹͇̬͓̗̲͔͇̳̱̣̺̓̏͋̋̽̅̆̇͘͜͝͝ͅi̴̛̛͊̾̒̀͌͛̓͒̂͛͋̔̐́̃̽̓͗͗̐͆̿͘͘͝­̧̖̘͈͔̣̳̹̙̰͙̜͎̦̪̹͕̦̗̻̣̗̞̺̹̤̩͇͎̮̹̩̀̾̓̌͂̕͝͠͠͝ͅs̷̏̿̃̇̎̎͛̏͋̐̋̈̀̋̋̓̕̚͝͝­̧̡̢̱̟͖̥͙̠̳̹͕͈̗̤̠̻̥͔̺̥͈͎̙̪̏̐̅̓͆̚m̸̛̮̬͂̐͌̇̾̃͗̈́̾͗̑͆̈́̑̐̑̄̌̉̀͛̎͗̒̈́̚͘̕͝­̨̢̯̺͉͈̘͙̪̙̣͇̥̙͉͙͈̠͍͍̝̝̞̹̟͓̥̥͙͜.̶̛͚͈̄̈́̈́̀̑͂̓͆̊̈́́̾̔̒̒̈́̈́͛̅͋̒̈̾̀̔̾̚̚̕͝­̨̧̢̡̡̡̺̙̮̤̭̩͎̗͉̜͔̘͍̦͉̯̩̼͜ͅ
̴̡̡̰̭͕̪̥̣͑͛̾̂͆̓̏̓͌͗͋͊͑̈́͂͊̓̓̾̂̌͂̅̊̑̐͘͝͝­̳͎͎͇̗͇͎͕͙̻̣͓̠̼̦͎͚̪̱ͅȈ̷̺͉͕̦̫̙̗̘͇͇̤̬͓͈̣́̓͂̆͊̿͑͂̈́́̈́̈́͌̄̐̏͊̔̑̏͊̅͊́͜͝ͅ­̢̧̡̨̣̲̤̥ ̵̡̡̢̢̢͉̩̰̹̮͙̞͖̻͇̱̦͕̲̙͍̞̺͇̬̭̼̱̥̭̺̀̅̇̌͒̈́̀̇͌̽͆̃̂̑̾̂̎͂̅͗̇̎̊͗̀̀͑̕̚͝͠͝ͅ­̢̖͇̜̫̱̲ñ̶̡̢̝̘͎͔͍̤̮̻̯̖͈͔̝̬͔̈̋̈́̍̒̇̂̈̾̄̐͐͂̑̾̉̓͗̆͋̏̄́̒̆̋̈́̍͐͒̿̓̕͘͝͝͝͠­̢̡͍̦̖͇͎̻̦͔̖̭̟̤̖̮͉̮̞̰e̵̢̯̪͇͔͍͔̳̗̫͙̍̑̊̈́͗͗̉͌̑̑̐̊̎̏̃͋͆̈̾͛̐̄̊͌̎̚̚̕͝͠͝͝­̡̝̠̙̫̰̗̼͉̲̜̯̯͈̟̫͕̱̥͈̖̟̻͈̮̬̖e̴̳͌̍̑͛̅̏̇̒͆̊́̏͌͆̽̅͌̐̂̓͛̊̿̈͐͋̅̀̕̕̚͜͠͝͝­̢̗̩̫̞̻̠̘̗̗͔̮̞̬͍̬̲͇͍̞̯͖̝̗̙̯͎͕̳͖͉̘͜ͅͅͅd̷͆̐̓̎̈́̔̀̔̿̄̈́̓͒̈́̍̑̃͆̄̒̐͋̑̕̕͘͝­̢̰͖̜̤̜̼̘̠͖̱̯̯̜̬͚͚̩̪̜̠͉̹͊́͗̽̊͒̂̈́̆̔͘͜ͅ ̸̧̢͎͖̗̮̮̟̘̼͚̥̹̗̱̲̫̝̫̮̳͓̤̭̣͌̑́̍̀̐̈́͆̾̈́͊̂̄̈́̃̍̈̑̇͐̓͒͑̔̈́͛͘̕͜a̷̛͐̊̈́̑͋̾̚­̢̢̨̧͍͕̫̤̣̦͈̭̱͕͉̫̱͍̯̱̲͔̯͒͗̀̓̓͌͆̇̽̾͂̄̋̈́̀̑͛̇̈́̄̆͘͜ͅͅͅͅͅň̶͂̀̆͆̑̽̄̾̂̈́̏­̡̢̡̘̝̩͓̹̲̗͙̘̪͇͈̲͖̦̫̘͍̗̣̰̰̀̔͊̒̋̀̃̈̔̇̋̈́̎̔̈͑͆̆́̒̎́͝͝͠͝ͅ ̴̧̢̧̡̛͍̞̼̼̠͖̹̱̖̯͙͓̝̰̹̼̖̫̝͈̦̺̺͔̹́̎͛̏͊̔̔̃̀͆͒̋̑̽̎́́͛̂̄̅̔̍̿̿͌̒̌̿̈́͘͝͝͝­̲̬̮ȩ̸̧̛̲͇͎͔̝͖̮͔͎̯̣̟̗̰̯͈̹̜̭̻̼̯̻̗̥̲̯̫̎͆̒̎̍͊̈́̋̓͊͐̄̑͐̀͗͊̈͂́̒̐̎͊͘̚͘͝ͅ­̨̫̝̬͇͙̣͍x̷̡̡̧̛̩̭̙̻̺̱̞̥̣̣͔͍̤̘͇͈̹̯͓̙̮͇̗̩̫̳̻͑̊̿̇͗͊͑͆͌͐̀͂̀́́̇͋͒͋̕̕͝͝ͅ­̢̬̦̱̦ͅơ̷̢̨̛̛̗̘͎̦͚͈̬̻͖̲̖̖̟̖̐̿͒̈́͊̎̽̎̿́͂́̋̀̒̈́͌̇͊͐̊͆̄͋͑̒͆́͗̈́̔͘͘͜͜͠͠͠­̡̨̧̧̢̘͚̼͙̖̼̰̳̰̟̥̭͜ŗ̵̧̨͎͉̤̞̘̗̤̠̭̙̱̩̯̠̠̠͆̍̀͂͛͆͛̀͂͐̂̈̀̌͊̅͗̎̍̿̎̾͗̚͘͠­̡̨̺̞̯̲̯̻̮̟̪͇͈͚͔̙͜c̸̫̞͖̗͚̘̠͖̹̙͎͔͎̻͑́̿͊̌̈́̍̏̑̋̽̀̈́̍̀̔̎́̔́͐̔̃͌̐̐͛͂̊̕̚͠­̢̘̗̻̞͇̳̳͉̥̼ĭ̴̢̡͎͍̫̤̘̜̮̠̳̹̭̹̻͈̙͙͎̘̫̻͈̍̍̒̉͑̎̏̏͛̔͋̽̈͆̔̽̓́̔̅̑͆͌̔̚͜͜ͅ­̧̡̥̭s̶̨̼̝͕̠̹̞̘̦̥̤̟̣̹̣͍̯͖̥̦̬̰̭̫̼͉͛̈̓̌͆̎̄͋̀̈̅͋̏̋̀͛͌̍͐́́͋͋̐̎̋͛̕͝͠͝͝͝­͈͍̪͇̭̪m̷̢̨̧̢̡̛̯̫̣̯̪̱̦̱̮̥̹͈̜̠̼̣͍̈́̆͌̄͋͌̌͊̇̃̈́́̽̉̃͊̈́͆́̔̃̀͛̃̀̓̕̕̕͘͘͜͠ͅ­̧̨̪̝̝̱͔̳̝̗̭̲͜.̷̛̛̛̖̲̪̥̹̲͕̣͕͇̜͋̓̆̇̍̏͒̽̅͛͒͗̾̋̋̀̐̍̑̄̀̓̊̉̅̌̚͘͘͠͝͠͝͝͝͠­̨̬̝̰̪͈̥͔̬̱̝̖̘̣͙̳͚̹͜ͅ
̷̧̛̛͖͎̦̰̓̆̒̈́̈̐̈̌̿̇̈̄͛̑̔̎̈̉̀̆̑̈́̈̊̀͆͒̐̀̇͛̚̚̚͘͠­̜̭̩̹̲̰̙̲̤̘̜͕̙̜̮̹̤̳͔ͅI̶͈̰̻͖͉͉̯̖͉̠̤͍̿̃́͒͂̐̐̓̑͊̈́̓̈́̊͂̆͋͆̃͗̄̾͂̌͗̽̀͆̓̕͘­̡̢̨̡̢͔̦͈͉̻̞̫̣̙̗̫̱̻͍̟̘̣̺ͅ ̷̨̧̢̧̛͚̦͖̟̟͓̮̭̩͙͈͉̣̭̦̭̰̞̝̤̳̮͙̦͉̯͒̀́̋̌̄̐́͛͐͗̆̀̏̈́̑̀͐̿̐̍́́̈́̒͗̓̕̕͜͝͠ͅ­̰͎͖̜n̸̡̨̡̨̼̮͓̞͙̪̙̗̙̬͚̱̭̯̭͖̺̰̫̝͑͗̊̐̂̓̏̈͗̆͆͊̂̐̾̂̏̍͌̾̌͋͗͘͘͝ͅe̴͗̋͋̄̏͌­̨̨̛̳̬̗̬̟͙͚̹̣̙̥̪̘̼̘̪͕̰͔͉̱͓̰̘͈̮̟̖̭̫͕͕̅̔̈́̿̽̃̈́̆̇́̒͊̂̊̏̅̈́̐̚͝͝͝ͅe̵͛͌̽̃͠­̢̡͖̙̹̜͈͈̰̬̹̰͔̳̳̦͎̹͙̳̺͍̗̤̻̹̳͓͕̘͈̉̀͌͗̓̀̊̉̇́͐͐̏̀̅͌̉͛͊̊͊̀͆̇̾͘͘̚̕͝͝ͅͅd­̷̢̨̡̛͕͓͔͚̝̰̗̜̹͖͖͖͇̟̼̠̮̬͎̖̱͔̀͌̀̐͐̀̽́̌̅̿̄̋̉̈́̀̏̏̅́̆͛̀̏͘̚͘͝͠͠͝ ̵̨̧̧̡̛̱̲̱̦͎̼̳̭̬͔̼̳͖̫̘̘̼͉͙̹͍͖͙͈͇̤͔̬̹͕̫̺̺̑̔͊̂̓̽̋̉͊͐̄͐̾̈́͂͐̓̏͒̑͊̽̃̚͘ͅ­̠a̵̢̡̛̛̛̻̪̪̮͕̠̰̝̬̳̟̪͈̭͚̟͇̥̱̞̓̾̈́̒̉́̐̀̈́̅͑̈̀̔̂̇́͑̓̆̕̕ͅͅͅǹ̷̽̄̀̀͒́̊̍̄­̨̢̳̠̟̲͓̱̹̠̣̦̻̖̝̮͙̫̪̫͔͈͖̭̘͑̆̽̓̔̆̈̏̉̽̇̈́͌̍̈́́̇ͅ ̴̛͚̞͓̘̦̝̥̞̦̯͔̭̫̬̣̰̻̘̩͓̖̥̳̀̍̂̏̄̊͐̎̅͑́̓̔̋͗͛̐̈́́͌̿̌̾̀͘͘̚̕͝͝͝ͅͅẽ̷̀́̏̚­̡̦̟̘̖̖̖̦͈̰̞̦̫̞̤̰͔̳͓̣̟͕̮͓͖͙͑͑̔̋̍̍̿͌̓̓͌̄̑̄̂̇͌̈́̋̈́̐͆̕̕͜͝͝x̸̿̿̈́̈́̋̔̇̊͘͝­̢̢̧̞̼̹̪͚̮̰̱̳̞̲͍͔̭͖̟̻̬͍̼͓̳͕̖̫̳̖̖͔̤̰̫͐̉̈̅̿͒̋͒̐̀͒̂͛̇̐̋͆̕̕͜͠͝ͅͅo̵̎̒͒̀­̡̡̧̢̡̛̞̭͓̯͎͚̲̬͖̼͙̰̰͈͈͓̘̟͖̫̲̫̝͙̖͙̮̮̓̓́̔͗̍̎͆̂́̿̋͐̈́̂͠͝͝͠͝ͅr̴̛̂̍̑̈̅͠͝­̨̡̨͕̠̣̻͕̪̬͕͎̦̥̟̝̰̦͚̫̗̯͔͉̰̞͂̿̌̑̃͒͒̆͛̀͊̃̒̑̐̀͊͌̑̊̿̌̓̅̓͋̃̚͘̕͠ć̵͋͐̓̆̓­̡̡̛̹̼̭̤̩̬̳̘͈̮̰̲̗̭̲͈̹̰͖͇̅̋̌̽̽̑̊̈̐̊̐́̄̆̋́͒̄͂̏̌̂͑͘̕͘͜͜͝ͅͅi̴̛̊̾͌̾̑́̒͝­̡̩͇̟̝̰̮̤̖̫͓̼̫͍͙̩͇͍̱̳̖͙͔̞͚̳͕͕͛̊̌͗͗̎͋͊̆̉̃͗̆͋̅͐̐̀̕͜͝͝͝s̴̛̛̓͋̀̉̋̇̅̔̐̑­̢̡̡̛͇͔͚̳͉͚̼̗̝̦̱͎̲͖̟̳̰͇͍̦͚̹͓̱͌͐̇̑̇́̅̋͐̔̽̉̄̌͂̋̕͘͜͜͝͝͝ͅm̸̅̆̍̍̐̀̉͂̕͝͠­̢̯̪͚̰̩̼̳̮̯͍͎̮̰̤̣̖̙͉̹̮̦͈̗͉̣̝̲͈̦̪̥̾̽̀̈́̃̏͋̓̎̉͗͑͛͘͝ͅͅͅ.̷͗̽̈̾͌͛͛̒́̄̕̕͠­̧̢̛̗͇̥͍̰̮̘͍̙̗̮̦̘̜͔̫̻̤͔̝͚̮̰͔̞̖̓̇̈́̊͐̀̾̂͛̇̄͗̌̑̅̅͊̔̚͠͝
̸́̄̌͂̄̅̈́̐̄̂̒͛̊­̡̧̨̼̝̹̖̗̻̣̯̭̟͙͇͕̺̱̜̠̺͙͔̻̣̻̭͔͖̗̙̫͎̭̗͇̬͉͙̆̆̓̈͗̾̉̋̒̈̀͝I̸̎̄̏͌̏̓͊̓̀̋̔͂­̢̡͇̗͖̫͔̥̥̘̻̱̠̻̗̤͚̝̙̜̼̦̼̰̔͂̄̔̅͊̌̋̕͠͠͝ͅͅ ̵̢̨̢̛̛̛̜̰͔̣̞̼̭̠̜͎̳͎̠̝̱͍̟̞̟͈̦͎̥̻̓̇͑̓̒̈́͆̀͋͒̒̇̐̏̄͌̄̀̈́͛́͌̽́̈̏̃͛̓͐͐̽͘̕­̠̮̮̟̗͉̲̦̫͉͜n̸̡̧̛̖̣͎̥̥̳̙̭̞͙͙̱̪̤̳̗͛̓͒̿̋̄͆̔͂̈̉̐̈́̌̏̇̆͊͌̓̆́͆̎̃̾̔̈͗͘̚͠͝­̧̨͖͓͍̻̗͚̠͎̝̳͍ͅȅ̴̢̧̧̹̦̞̱̱͉̺͈̤̳̄͂̍̉͂̐͑̂͊̇̄̌͑̉̽̅̅͊̀̔̎̂̃̎̀̑̊̉̄͆̍̕͘͠͝­̨̢̡̮͚̥̣̯̪͕̬̗̩͓̦̩͈̺͙̪͇ȩ̷̨̢̛̛̻͕̬̰̩̼̝͚͔̂͐̀̌̏̋͐̿̒̆̆̈́̈͂̅̓͑͑̿͋̈́̏̍̆͘͘̕͠­̧̧̢̨̹̬̜͎͓̻̬̰̹͜d̷̢̛̛̳̺͖͚̙͕̲̯̠̦̊̓̏̿̈͊͆͐̅͑̃̈́̋̈̀̓̒̓̂̊̽̐̂̐̍̎̈͑̉̒̇̈́̕̚͜͠­̡̺̱̖͕̙͉̩̻̲̦̲̖̩̬̻̬̣̟̪͈̳̞̜ͅͅ ̷̨̛̛̠̤͕͔̝̗͈̯̟͕̝̱̞͕̫̙̘̣̗̯̖̽̄͒̎̃̃͐͌̿͑́̿̋̎̇̀͗̍͐̋̈́̃̓́̔͆͛͑̃̕͘͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͠ͅ­͈̟͉̫̹̟a̶̧̡̨̡̨̢̛̼͍̝̙͙̭̯͍̜͎͖̺̮͓͍̗̫̤͐̈́̍̆̄̆͆͑͋͋͗͒̉́̎͛̔́̾̇̏̾̇̆̏͛̇̂̈́͊̕͜­̞͈͕͕ͅn̵̛͈̠̼̮̖̮̱̰̝̪̦̮̞̣̝̳͚̤̝̖͊͒̀̎͑́̍̿͛͋̍̾̂̉̄̍̀́͆̒̀̇̑̓̈́͒̂́̐͘͘̚̕͠͝͝ͅ­̨͇̮̗ ̷̨̨̡̡̛̰͉̣͈̮̗̺̘͇̝͖̦͙̱͉̙̟͉̣̼̈̾̾̏̍̈̎͌̅͗̉̔͗͆̋̌̆͑͒̈́̂̽̉̐͂͌̀́̈́͗̈́͒̚̚͜͠͠͝ͅ­̨̭͓̰͈̝̱͉̖ͅȩ̴̧̪̦͓̻̰͕̳̥͚̦̖̰͓̝̖̓̈͋̈̄̄͒̽͆͊͋̿̌́͒̄̍͐̂̅̐̄̏̾́͌̈́͛́̾̑͊̿͌̕͠­͇͓̹̟̤̬̬̖̼͎͖̪̰̣͇͖x̸̢̢̛̛̯̮̗͕̤̪̮͉̫̭͕̠͚͂͑̅̽̂͛̾̄̾̅̄̀̂̒̏̎̏͒̿̾̅͗̌́͠͝͝͝ͅͅ­̢̡̧̙͙̗̥̹͇͎̪͇̦̣̤̪͉ở̴̡̢̢̤̻͖͖̰͎̯̹̆̈̽̊̌̓̓̑̓̍͛̆̔̄̀̔̓͗̓͊̇̽͂̍̀̓̐͘͘͘͜͜͠­̢̜̼͔͚͕̯̠̠͎̣͚̹͙͇̞͔r̶̨̨̛̪̗̜̫̱̲̥̩͇̯̻̗͈̭͈̊̃͒̌̔̍̿̈́̒̐̄̓̀͊͛̑̉͗̂̌̉̚͘͜͝͠͝͝­̢̢̰̖̼̻̝̯̜̳̬̦̙̦͖̭͍͎c̵̢̗͍͔͈͙̻̩͍̮̬͔͎̞̫̦͍̠̫͔͋̄̏͒͒̈͊̾̎̄̍͒̎̂͆̐͊͌̓͋̽̊͘͜͝­̧̥̩̩i̷̧̛̬̤͕̫̟̬͔̺̠̬͖̝̮̦̪̙͍̭̗̝̪͎̙̲͍̥̘̮͉̤͒̈̒̏̿̈̏̒̐̅̓̍̊̓̑̽̽́̈́̀̓̅̋͛̊s̷­̡̨̡̨̯̺̯̩̖̮̜̦͙̖̥̟̞͙̗̖̬̩̖͙͔̝̱̟͎̎̈́͗̇̌̽̾̊͒͂̽̿̿̒̾̅̓̐̌͆̾̓̉̓̒͆̔̑̂̾̃̄̚̕͝ͅ­̦͈̺͉̪̪̥̗m̸̡̛̛̠̭̲̫̪̮̪͇͍̱̦̦̝͖͖̼̖̰̘͈͇͕̲̀͂̌͊͌̈́̽́̈́͒̍̑̋̀́̔̐̓̀͐̊̓͋͘̕̕͝͝͝­̥̝̭̪̩̦̩.̴̡̨̛͕̗̠̞̩͉͙̠̯̬̬̘̺̗͌͋͌̓̎̓͋̑̀͂͗̌͊̊͗̔́́̈̃̋̄́̏͑́̈́̎̐͗͒̐̕͜͝͝͝͝ͅ­͓̰̺̲̪̙͙̲̙͔̼͚̣̮͎̘͓̙͚̪͜







̵̠̻͚̞̱̗̊͑̆̊̊̾͘͜.̸̱̼͙̙̪̣͌̔́̀͐̈́͜͝.̴̀̎͝­̨̧̡̯͎̭̹́̐́͠.̵̨̡̛͚̦̙̭͛̐̈́̓̽͜͝ ̷̻̠̥͓̙̤͓͂̈́̃͗͋̎͝Ĩ̵̧͔̠͖̖̰̼̀̇̊̈́́͠ ̷̩̲̯̼̖̲͖͐̃͛̾̽͆̕n̴͓̜̻̩͓̪̫͗͂̐̈́͝͠͝ȩ̶̙͈͔̲̬͙́͌̎̓̿̍̄ě̴̫̙̰̥̫̟̑̂̎̏̓̇ͅd̷­̙̩̰̗͇̞̏̍͂͊̎̈̌ͅ ̷͈͇͎̮̲̱̭̅̽̈̌̄̌͠a̴̧̢̤̮̺̯̭͐̃̀̐̔͋͑n̵̡̞̼̺͇̻͔̓́́̔̇̇̕ ̵͚͚̪̳̪͖̏͊͂͆̉̀͜͝è̷̡̢̠̞̥̤̿̾͒̄͂͠ͅx̷̡͎͇̼̭͓̮̍́̏̎̉̔͝ǫ̸̨̛̩̝̠̗͉̇͊̑͒̾͝r̷­̥̠̲̣̯̻͔̈́̂̎̇̄̕͝c̴̣͔̝̣̰̻͖͗͆̆͂̎͠͝i̵̤̻̝̣̘̰̊̽͛̓̐͗̚͜ş̸̢̳̭̙̬̘̍́̑̀̾̕͠m̷̆­̯͖̲͙͚̝̭̃̆̏̐́̾.̵̫̼̱̞͈͖̠̌́̈̾͗͂͘
This is for one person.
It's also for multiple.
It's also for me.
Nathan Alexander Sep 2018
I hate it,
I can't take it anymore!

I'm tired of crying,
Just because I'm seeing something that leaves me in awe...

I hate myself,
I hate everything I am,
I hate how I can't come up with any kind of special plan,
The type that gives you warmth,
The type that makes you cry,
The type where you're left wondering why...

The type, where in the end...
Everything turns out alright.

I hate that I can't do anything with my life.
Seeing any kind of story makes me want to cry,
And now, I'm the one asking why!

I have my reasons for romantic,
But those masterpieces make me want to give up and die.

And there's school tomorrow,
I don't want to do it.
I don't want to wake up tomorrow, and put my back into it.

I know I'll never pass,
My memory is **** as hell,
If anything, I'll be hitting the table, with blood running down my hands,
Because I can't do my ******* math...

I'm sick of this...

Irrelevant, pointless,  meaningless, talentless,
Every one of those I am!
I hate being me,

Please help me...

Though... I know you can't.
I know this is the best life gets...
I know you can't fix this mess,
This broken machine.

What's the point of throwing myself at love...
When in the end, I'll just be left,
Like trash?

And I can't trust a soul...
This monster in my head has long taken control...

In the end, it never seems enough.
It feels like they don't care about me,
And I try so hard to block out that voice,
But it comes back, giving me no ******* choice...

And it doesn't matter, since even love...
Wouldn't be able to let me pass through all of my broken dreams,
Without tears...

And I'm crying tonight,
Having no idea what I can do...
And even if I try,
There's no memories I can use,

To keep myself distracted from this nightmare...

And every fiber of my being wants to see that little ray of hope, that light...
But every single night...
A little bit more of me dies inside...
Pushing me to the end...

So I just go to sleep...
Because in that endless void, that darkness filled pit...
I feel more at home...

I like to think I feel more alive by my own, alone...

But watching all those stupid movies...
All those stupid things...

Reminds me I want to be,
I want to feel...

Just like them...

I want someone to hold my hand...
Want someone to tell me they're never going away...

But... I know... I'd never believe them in the first place...
I'd laugh at them, hiding my tears under a facade.

And I'm tired...

Dried eyes, by now.
I know there's nothing more I can do.
This kid, that anybody hardly knew...
Is lost in time, in his own mind...
Will he ever make it out?

Well for one... I am full of doubt.

And I don't even know why...
I try...
Since every single time...
I'm left, dead inside...
Yet, afraid to die...


And I don't even know why...
I try...
Since every single time...
I'm left, dead inside...
Yet, afraid to die...

Though, that... I'm not scared to try.
I didn't plan on releasing this, because this one is truly ****** up.
I just watched a movie, and it left me in awe.

Not that that's a good thing, when it comes to me.
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