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آلسو کیرم دهنتون اینقدر انسان‌ها رو جنرلایز نکنین! هر کصشعری که میگین درباره‌ی من صدق نمیکنه. اگر کسی که با تو غیبت بقیه رو میکنه به این معنی نیست که قطعا با بقیه هم غیبتِ تو رو میکنه! اگر کسی همه‌ی رازهاش رو به‌تو میگه به این معنی نیست که آدم دهن لقیه و کلا به همه همه‌چیز رو میگه. دستتونو تا کجا کردین تو کونتون که این کصشعرها رو تونستین در بیارین؟؟ 𖣠| @breazelnut

ببخشید من واقعا انسان بدون فیلتر و بی‌اعصابی شدم. یک مدت همراهی کنید با زخم‌زبان‌ها؛ ایشالا باز یاد میگیرم تظاهر کنم به مهربان بودن! 𖣠| @breazelnut

And you... the person I thought had the map, stood at the doorway and told me the house was empty. Maybe you were right that you couldn't live in it. Maybe the rooms I have are not enough for what you need. Maybe you needed a kind of warmth I cannot produce, and leaving was the only way you could stop freezing. I can accept that. What I cannot accept is the idea that because my fire is different, there was never a flame. You don't have to stay. You don't have to call what I gave you love. You don't even have to want it. But you cannot take the years, the trust, the choices, the affection, the pieces of myself I placed in your hands, and rewrite them as nothing simply because they did not feel the same from inside your body. You were the person I trusted with the truth. And somehow, the truth became the weapon you used to convince me that everything I gave you was a lie. Maybe I don't love like other people. Maybe I never will. Maybe my heart will always be a strange country with borders no one else knows how to cross. But you crossed them. I let you. And for me, that was never nothing. That was the closest thing to opening every window in a house that had spent its entire life in darkness. 𖣠| @breazelnut    |    #ToYou whom I lost

I think what hurts is not that you left. It is that you were the one person I thought would understand the shape of the wound your leaving would leave behind. You knew the architecture of my emptiness. You knew which rooms inside me were dark, which doors I kept locked, which parts of myself I had learned to leave untouched because other people always mistook them for something they weren't. You knew my ASPD. You knew that my heart does not speak the same language as everyone else's. You knew that love, for me, is not always a flood. Sometimes it is a footprint. Sometimes it is a hand reaching through the dark without knowing why it reached. Sometimes it is simply the decision to leave the door unlocked for one person when the rest of the house is barricaded. And you were that person. My exception. I don't know if you ever understood what that meant. I don't know if anyone could. I have spent so much of my life being translated incorrectly. People look at the silence inside me and call it cruelty. They look at the absence of certain feelings and call it emptiness. They look at the way I love and decide that if it doesn't resemble their love, then it must be counterfeit. But you were supposed to know better. I thought you had finally learned how to read a language that wasn't written in your own alphabet. So I gave you the manuscript. I gave you the parts of myself I usually keep buried beneath layers of glass. I let you see behind the curtain. I told you things I don't tell people. I let you know what my love looks like when it comes from me. And you made me believe you understood. That's why your words feel so strange inside me now. Not like a knife. Knives are simple. This feels more like someone walking into a house you spent years building and telling you that none of the rooms were ever real. You told me that whenever I said I loved you, you knew it wasn't real. That there was nothing there. And I don't know how to explain how cruel those words are when I never lied to you about the way I work. I never promised you a heart that would beat the way yours does. I never promised you the kind of love that would consume every corner of me. I never told you that I would suddenly become someone who feels everything exactly as you do. I only gave you what existed inside me. And somehow, you looked at it and called it nothing. But there was something. There was you. There was the fact that, among all the faces in the world, yours became familiar enough that I wanted to keep seeing it. There was the fact that I wanted to know when you were hurting. The fact that I wanted to make you laugh. The fact that I wanted you to feel safe. The fact that I wanted you to feel loved, even if the word love inside my head has never meant what it means inside yours. There was effort. There was attachment. There was trust. There was tenderness in whatever strange shape tenderness takes inside a person like me. There was a place I made for you in a house where I rarely let anyone past the threshold. And perhaps that was my version of holding someone. Not with a feeling so enormous that it swallowed me whole, but with a choice I kept making. Again. And again. And again. You were the exception to rules you didn't know existed. You were the person I stopped translating myself for. And maybe that's why I can't make sense of this. Because you were the one person who told me that I deserved to be understood. You were the one who saw the distance between me and my boyfriend and told me he could never truly understand me because I never showed him this part of myself. You knew things about me he never did. You heard the confessions I couldn't give anyone else. And somehow, when everything collapsed, he was the one who said, "I love you, even if you can't love me." He looked at the locked doors and didn't demand that they disappear before he could believe there was someone behind them. He simply stayed. 𖣠| @breazelnut    |    #ToYou whom I lost

شاگرد جدیدم استیه!

If I ever get to meet Christopher i will do 2 things. And one of them is to thank him. I will bow as deep as possible to show my gratitude in the way his culture realizes that. I will bow down and thank him. He may not be that important to me but at a time, he was the reason I didn't lose someone special to suicide. I will forever be thankful to him for that. 𖣠| @breazelnut

𖣠| @breazelnut

𖣠| @breazelnut

𖣠| @breazelnut

Ppl think I'm bad at lying, and they may be right. I suck at white lies and stuff but I lie everyday and no one notices! I have a very fake personality and no one realises that! 𖣠| @breazelnut

𖣠| @breazelnut

منو اذیت میکنین؟ همتونو اذیت میکنم. کصکشا

به اونی که دیشب اینقدر مسخره سوپرایزم کرد هم همینو گفتم.