Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied.
All the Bullshit that I've been through I've made the best of it.
Without wounds my existence is bleeding, and I can't find the inner trail to follow myself.
All of us are broken. Itβs just a question of how far we are willing to go to fix it.
Itβs sad how quickly people can forget about you, until they want something from you
"Ψ£ΩΨ§ ΨͺΩΨ΅Ψ§Ψ¨ Ψ£ΩΩΨ§Ψ±ΩΨ§ Ψ¨Ψ§ΩΩ
ΩΩΩ..Ω
Ω Ψ²ΩΨ§Ψ±ΨͺΩΨ§ Ψ§ΩΩ
ΩΨͺΩΨ±Ψ±ΩΨ".
ΩΩΨ· ΩΩ
Ψ³Ψ© Ω
Ω Ψ§ΩΩ
ΩΨͺ ΩΩΩΩΩ ΩΨ°Ψ§ Ψ§ΩΩΩΩ
Ω
ΩΨͺΩ
ΩΨ§Ω.
Sometimes we donβt get second chances. Sometimes things just end.
There is something bleeding to death inside me but I donβt know what it is.
There is a terrible emptiness in me, an indifference that hurts.