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427
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427
when did you find out you never made it home? swallow all of your tomorrows. gunned down, you never even heard.
427
دوستان سوال داشتن چطوری ۲۴/۷ شبانهروز و در هر بازه زمانی و مکانی به مرگ فکر میکنم؟ باید بگم که خوب نیستم، شما چطورید؟ خانواده خوب هستن؟
427
من آدمِ زیادهخواهی نیستم، از دارِ دنیا فقط یه گربه میخوام که روی شکمم بخوابه. اگر روی قبرم بخوابه که چه بهتر.
427
hopefully I didn't overreact. (I grabbed a gun and shot them 28 times in the head and stabbed them 28 times more in the chest and drowned them in acid and separated their meat from their bones and threw them for the wild dogs of the outer city)
427
imagine trying to talk to me in this hot ass weather while I'm doing my best to not kill myself and you with stabbing a sharp object right into your useless neck of yours and mine.
427
everything is slightly falling apart and there's some hoes out there pretending nothing happens. kys baba.
427
I remember moments sharp and bright as glass shards, but they cut deeper now. reminding me of what was and what will never be again. no matter how much I wish, this weary soul longs for an end. a soft release.
427
3:06 the sun will rise again, a cruel, indifferent dawn, but I won't be there to witness its arrival.
427
1:54 and I'm so tired. a weariness that seeps into the marrow. a cold, persistent ache.
427
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