It hurts it I NEED YOU hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts i̷̩̳̙͒͂̾͊̚ţ̷̡̲̯̻͕̃̈͂͘͘̕ ̶̖̤̝̮̳͍̦̝̖̹̱̥͛̓̎̌̃͌̎̾h̶͙͌̂̿̊ư̶̺̜̲̲̬͈̱͎̯̱̳̟̲̫r̵̮̬̗̗̜̟̩̩͕̣̃́̏̃̾̓̚t̶̡̢̧̡̤͚̯̝͒͝ś̴̢̧̢͇̭̻̞̓̊́͛͆̓̉̎͘͝ ̵̨̛̗̲̫͈͓̱͈̦̞̝̙̎̃̌́̐̑̒̓̕͜i̵̢̛̻̙̍̍̇̿̓͛̍̈́͝t̸̨̢̟̭̦͙͍̦͍̘̤͕̿̏̄͆͋͑̔͝ ̴̛̙̝͚̜͉̔͗͋̃͜ȟ̷̡̧͚̥̦̑͐͂͊̈́͑̈́̀͌̀̕ư̴̙̲̦͉̟̬̰̣͖͓̐̇̈̑͂̍͆̌̑̎͑͝r̵̢̧̝̘̩͚̤̠̝̮̮̜͙̋̅̇̄͐̂͠ͅt̶̢̨̩̝̣̬͔̟̯̳̖͍̋̊̎̈́̀͊̌͛̃͝s̴̠̠͖̰̙̣̥̘̗̻̲̯̎̋͋ͅ ̷̺̝͚̜̊̅͊͛̎̽̐̌i̸̝͛t̴̻̾̾̽́̋̇͗̓̌̑͘̕͠ ̴̢̢̰͖̮̩̝͓̜̰̺̬͗̀́̃̎͑̔͜͜ͅḩ̶̝̫͎̤͕̪̱̓̊̿͂̀̿͒̓̓̿̀̂̋͘ȗ̵͖̖͖̱̔͊͝ṙ̴̖̺̺̥̪̈́͑̏ț̷̻̑͊͋͆̄͆̅͐̃̐͂s̶̨̛̙̫͕̪͈̘͉͕͖̋͌̂͆͝ ̴̢̮̀̐̍̌̇͑̓̾i̵̢̳̼̠͍̥̩̫͓̟̞̇̎̈́̽͑́̈́̍̌̒̅͊͜͝͝t̸̻̺̳̼̟̳͖̫͉͓͚̾͌̎́̌̃̈̍͝͝ ̷̡̫́͒́͐͘ĥ̸̞͎͈̺͍̼̤͚͂̋̆̀̏̎̊̊̓̕͝u̴̗͎͎͓͉̳̤̮͕̮͐̐̑͆̂́̈́̑̈͘ȑ̴̯͈̈͐̄̾̈̇̊t̴̢̡̧̩̤͎͍̘̘̝̯̖͖̼̥͛̌̏͐̆s̵̭̩̬͔̼̥͎̫͖̠̻̲̬͒̆̏̓ ̸̯̟͉̞̗̻͈̱͇̫̻̔̈́̌̽̌͐̈́̚̚͝i̵̧̮̪̩̋͒̆͂͐̈́̀͒̊̋̆̔̄̈́͛t̸̡͓̲̪̯͌̓̐̂̽͛͋͂͂̈͑͛̕ͅ ̸̨̧̨̭̳͈͉̣͖͐͐̊̋̌̃̀͠ḣ̶̨̯̯͕̭̫͎̠̘̲̊̿̇͋͑̅̑́͒̒̈́͊̔ͅu̶̝͇͍̬̾̈́̉͐̽͌̾̚͝͝r̴̢̢̥̗̲̣̓̅̏ṫ̶̻͔̙̯̯̪̬̜̊́̄̈̈́̀̉̍͋͝͝s̶̅̊ͅ ̴͎̪̟̟̬̰͎̙̇̅̀͗͛͠ỉ̷̧͎͔͙̬̳̼̠̏̽̈́̈́̓͆̔͆̋͑̀̑͜͜ẗ̴̛̪̠͖̗͖͔̠̖̞̗̲̥̯͊̔̾͆̚̕͜ ̶͇͍͙̟̼̭̣̗̤͛̋͗̅͋̈́̎̓̓̚͠h̴̛̺͉͙̀͐̂̓͒̄͠͠͠ú̵̧̞̫̥͚͍̼͕͇̑͐̊ͅr̸͕̮͇̐̄͌̊͗͊̏͝t̶̢͔̱̘̩̦̩͍̪͈̗̘̮́̽̐s̶̙̝̥͕̖̱̺̣̺̫̠̥͖̀͗͂̏̓̾̑͋̕͜͝ ̵̯̬̗̱̱̑̐̾͂͜i̵̡̼̖̝͔͙̭̪̊̿̔̾̍̔̀ͅt̷̢͉͇͇̦̖͍͖͌̾͂͌͗̉ͅ ̴̝͇͇͔̬͐h̸̺̳̠͌ű̷̧̧̦̦͎̭͕͓̯̱̠̗̬̲͝r̶̬̗̠̗̟̞̯̅̒͒̎̐ẗ̶̢̪͖̩̥͖̥͈̱̺̭͇̥́̏̄͗̓̾͌̾͗̏̃͒̈́̕͘s̴̟̘͕͔̣̘̻͚̺͚̤̈́͗̽̊̅̏̔̂̏̉̚ ̷̢̰͉̼̠̞͈̈͑̈́̃́͆̔̄̐̋̈́́̏ͅí̵̢̧̖̲͔̪̝̖̘͍͔̫͖̾͗́̋͂̈̓͑͌́̈͠ţ̵̨̡͉̱̘̽̓͂͌͌̃͝ ̶̮̩̅͆̂͊̽͜͝ȟ̷̢̰͙͙͕̣̺̦̘̭͍͔̰̽̔́ͅū̵͐̾̀͘ͅŗ̶̩̲̣̺̰̿̈́t̴̫̩̻̝̺̪̯͊̀̔̎̍̈̎̽̈́̏̄͛s̶̼̺̫̤̦͎̯̒͛̀̍̑̇͗͆͒̽͠ ̷̧̧̪͈̝̺͇̭̟̬̙͕̣̐̀̈̈́̉̐i̶͙̮̱̣̺̳͖͍͕͚̞͙̙̽͊͂ť̴̯̳̤̞͖͉̪̰̪͖̗̗͑͜ͅ ̸̨̡̢̹͚̮͔̥̲̙̺̮̟̰̌̃̂̽̚Ḣ̸̰̬̻͔͙̮̫͙͉̬̤̘̾̀̍̇̾͜ΙI JUST WANT YOU u̸̬̝͔̤̘̥̰͖̣͆̈́̐͑͂̒͌̀͝͝ȑ̴̙̙̻͕̪͖̺̹̗̝́͛͝ţ̴̡̺̩̞̲̝̙̭͕͇̲͓̐͊̓͛̎̋͐͌̌͛̃͗̍̚͠s̶̡̲̰̟͋̌̽̐͐̚͜ ̴̧̯̥̽̓̇͛̀̃͂̎͛̄͘͠͝ï̶̧̨͕̗̯̲̼̲̬͎̫̪̹͚̱̍̈́̏́̍̇͋̽͌́͝͠t̴͉̙̪͍͘ ̸̬̦͓̫̹͚͆̍͠ḩ̷̫̟̰̘̖̮͍̹̱̒͛́̽̊́͐̎̌͗̂̆͝͠ͅù̸͉̹̭̻͔̹̲̙̆̓̈̌̋͆̐̄r̶̺̲̜͇̝̯̣͇̪̼̟̣̳̩͓̂t̵̨̨̼̺͉̜͎̙̜͐͑̐̐̆̀̇͠ś̵̨̨̱̭̰̫͍̮̫͕̥̤̟̱͌ ̵̢͙̗̬͈͇̟͔̱̱̝̖̣̦̑̊̅͜͝i̸̛̗͕͗͂̽̽̄̿͒̚͝͝t̴͉̻̥̭̙̭͎̠̰̘̂͛̈́͌͂̂͐̋̓̾͜͠ ̸̡̨̢̡̧͓̻͈̫̜̪̗͘h̵̢̨̡̺͍͇͚̺̓̈̑͗͋̿͐͠ų̷̨̛̠̣̰̜̬̟̜̩͎̺̼͓̼̇̓͛̚͠͠r̶̛̯̘̬͎͓͚̥̥͛̀̊̐̅͊̀̿͠ṯ̸̈́͑̚s̶͚̗͐̑́̌̂̍̆́͌̈́͐̈́͝ ̴̡̧̨̛̥̪̲̙̖̙̦̰̲͛̀̂͌̍̿̚i̸̧̧̢̡̮̫̯̬̊͒͒͑͜t̶̫̟̹͇͎͚̻͍̂̃͛ͅ ̷̧̧̟̖̗͔̻̖̖̦̓̈́̑͒̓̉̓͑̕͘̕̕͝͝ͅĥ̷̢̲̼̭͕͉͇͍͇͖͖̈́̓͊͐̋̈́̾̊̕u̷̡̪͙̭̱̻̯̳̎̊ṛ̵͎̖̦͎̤̀̋̓̀͛t̷̡̖͙͈̪͍̩̖͇͇̰̘̎͌̽͒̕͠s̷̠̥͖͇̞͙̤̱͉̭͎͎͆̓̆̉͋̂͆͑͌͊͜͠ ̵̧̛̖̱̉̐̏̉́̀͘͠͠͠ḯ̸̡̡̙͖̰̺̝̻͖̱̭̙͖͗̃͆̒̉͋̅͑͂̕͝͝t̵̨͙̯͙̙̒̔̍̓̅̅̄̄̽̃̚͝ͅ ̵̨͍̫̳̘͓̲͈̮̳͎̮̳̦̍͐̋͛͌̀̋̚͝͠ḩ̸̮̙̜̣͙̱̘̖͎͚̊̈̋̒̓̿̈́͋̇̄͒͝͝͝ų̸̖̦̩̲̻̝̖̝͚̩͋ŗ̶̭̩̻̺͉͌͐͋̽̐̀̃́͛͠͠ͅt̴̗͔̺͎̪͎̋̈́̔͑̃̔̕s̴͖͕̣̩͍̠̼̪̞͕̝͔͌̃́ ̶̰̖̥̘̳̻̺͙͂̂͐̉͐̈́̑̾́͝͝í̵̡̗̻͈͇͓͙͕͈ţ̷̛͈̰͎͕̙̭̱͍̜̑̾̈́͘ͅ ̸̡̧̲̮͇̲̙̫̖̫͎̈́h̸̡̡͓̝̫̘͓͉͖̞̠́̆̒͜ǘ̴̻̬͙̾͌̓͆̃̉̕r̵͖̪͌͆̊͆̍̾̒̏̽ͅț̷̢̡̛̀̃̊͑͊͛̚͘͠͝ş̴̱̪̗̳̺͕̩̘͂͆̓͂͘ ̷̪̒͂͗́̋̂̍̊i̵̛̥̗̲͉͖͑̓͐ͅṫ̷̢͖̞͕͍̗̖̱̘̯̞̑͜ͅ ̸̢̛̪̭͕̗̤̥͈̬̖̗̥̣̱͛͜h̸̢̛͓͓̰̻̮̰͍̃͗̋́̈̏͐̊̂̆̿͠͝u̵̩̤̰̦̮̯͓͒̾̒̎̄̔̉͒͊̆̅͘̕ṙ̵̢̘̟̤̘̺̦̼͎̤̰̣́̄̏́̃́͆̋̍͂̃̕ͅͅt̴̢̤̬̘̜͔̻̦̲̘͍͆̓̂͜s̴̲̯̯͇̦̻̐͐̇̈́̅̋͐̏̊̍̑̚ ̷̧̨̩͙͇̼̫̗̦͍̮̣͍̣̯͗į̷̧̳̥̤̞͎͇̫̫͙̻̤̙̑͊̎̿̇t̴̢̻̮̻̳̭̮̳̾͒̐̓̇ ̶̡̯͉͍͚̭͔̘̩͝ͅḩ̵̦̲͎̬͙͍̣͇̘̤̗̣̠̭̒̐͠u̵̯̣͖͈̝̗̠̥͋̾̾̒̍̇͋̍̃̾͑͠r̸̨̨͚̭̲͍̮̟̳̣̗̯̞̞̱̆̍̍͋̑t̵̢͙̆͑̌͊̐̒ś̸̢̢͓̰̲̮̥̒̿͒̽̾̀͗̽̅ i̷̩̳̙͒͂̾͊̚ţ̷̡̲̯̻͕̃̈͂͘͘̕ ̶̖̤̝̮̳͍̦̝̖̹̱̥͛̓̎̌̃͌̎̾h̶͙͌̂̿̊ư̶̺̜̲̲̬͈̱͎̯̱̳̟̲̫r̵̮̬̗̗̜̟̩̩͕̣̃́̏̃̾̓̚t̶̡̢̧̡̤͚̯̝͒͝ś̴̢̧̢͇̭̻̞̓̊́͛͆̓̉̎͘͝ ̵̨̛̗̲̫͈͓̱͈̦̞̝̙̎̃̌́̐̑̒̓̕͜i̵̢̛̻̙̍̍̇̿̓͛̍̈́͝t̸̨̢̟̭̦͙͍̦͍̘̤͕̿̏̄͆͋͑̔͝ ̴̛̙̝͚̜͉̔͗͋̃͜ȟ̷̡̧͚̥̦̑͐͂͊̈́͑̈́̀͌̀̕ư̴̙̲̦͉̟̬̰̣͖͓̐̇̈̑͂̍͆̌̑̎͑͝r̵̢̧̝̘̩͚̤̠̝̮̮̜͙̋̅̇̄͐̂͠ͅt̶̢̨̩̝̣̬͔̟̯̳̖͍̋̊̎̈́̀͊̌͛̃͝s̴̠̠͖̰̙̣̥̘̗̻̲̯̎̋͋ͅ ̷̺̝͚̜̊̅͊͛̎̽̐̌i̸̝͛t̴̻̾̾̽́̋̇͗̓̌̑͘̕͠ ̴̢̢̰͖̮̩̝͓̜̰̺̬͗̀́̃̎͑̔͜͜ͅḩ̶̝̫͎̤͕̪̱̓̊̿͂̀̿͒̓̓̿̀̂̋͘ȗ̵͖̖͖̱̔͊͝ṙ̴̖̺̺̥̪̈́͑̏ț̷̻̑͊͋͆̄͆̅͐̃̐͂s̶̨̛̙̫͕̪͈̘͉͕͖̋͌̂͆͝ ̴̢̮̀̐̍̌̇͑̓̾i̵̢̳̼̠͍̥̩̫͓̟̞̇̎̈́̽͑́̈́̍̌̒̅͊͜͝͝t̸̻̺̳̼̟̳͖̫͉͓͚̾͌̎́̌̃̈̍͝͝ ̷̡̫́͒́͐͘ĥ̸̞͎͈̺͍̼̤͚͂̋̆̀̏̎̊̊̓̕͝u̴̗͎͎͓͉̳̤̮͕̮͐̐̑͆̂́̈́̑̈͘ȑ̴̯͈̈͐̄̾̈̇̊t̴̢̡̧̩̤͎͍̘̘̝̯̖͖̼̥͛̌̏͐̆s̵̭̩̬͔̼̥͎̫͖̠̻̲̬͒̆̏̓ ̸̯̟͉̞̗̻͈̱͇̫̻̔̈́̌̽̌͐̈́̚̚͝i̵̧̮̪̩̋͒̆͂͐̈́̀͒̊̋̆̔̄̈́͛t̸̡͓̲̪̯͌̓̐̂̽͛͋͂͂̈͑͛̕ͅ ̸̨̧̨̭̳͈͉̣͖͐͐̊̋̌̃̀͠ḣ̶̨̯̯͕̭̫͎̠̘̲̊̿̇͋͑̅̑́͒̒̈́͊̔ͅu̶̝͇͍̬̾̈́̉͐̽͌̾̚͝͝r̴̢̢̥̗̲̣̓̅̏ṫ̶̻͔̙̯̯̪̬̜̊́̄̈̈́̀̉̍͋͝͝s̶̅̊ͅ ̴͎̪̟̟̬̰͎̙̇̅̀͗͛͠ỉ̷̧͎͔͙̬̳̼̠̏̽̈́̈́̓͆̔͆̋͑̀̑͜͜ẗ̴̛̪̠͖̗͖͔̠̖̞̗̲̥̯͊̔̾͆̚̕͜ ̶͇͍͙̟̼̭̣̗̤͛̋͗̅͋̈́̎̓̓̚͠
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I’m crying
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Such pretty nails
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So cute wanna look like her
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I hate skipping classes but i have to
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I wish they could see I’m a person too
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I cried at a card yesterday cause someone wrote their r’s like his.
I can’t see nebulas because of the hoodie you used to wear
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I wish I could tell him something that’s been on my mind.
I can’t sleep it’s been a few weeks. I just need to let you know.
I hate myself without you. When you sent that video I cut myself, there goes hot boy summer.
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Why do i fight for you?
For us?
Is this my mind playing tricks,
Or is this love?
This isn’t how love,
Seemed like in the movies.
I don’t think I did something wrong.
Yet I’m the one who has
To take the blame.
The blame, the guilt
Yet I still love you.
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