خُوش ک نَ وَلی میگذَره

همین روزاس ک بدن خبر مرگمو

خَسته مثل مریض لبِ مرگ

The alarm clock rings at 6:00 AM, a harsh, mechanical siren signaling the start of another day in the relentless cycle. He stares at the ceiling, feeling not just the physical fatigue of a sleepless night, but a heavy, pervasive exhaustion that seems to seep into his very bones. It is not the exhaustion of a good workout, but the hollow, aching weariness of life lived on autopilot

همیشه فکر می‌کنن میشه جبران کرد میشه معذرت خواست میشه توضیح داد چیزی‌که بهش فکر نميکنن این‌که هرچیزی یه زمانی داره از زمانش که گذشت دیگه بود و نبودش فرقی نداره وقتی از زمانِ درستِ ی‌چیزی بگذره دیگه هرکاری هم بکنی قابل‌ جبران نیست

2:15

“Not every smile means happiness. Sometimes it just means you're tired of explaining your pain. I've lost people I thought would stay forever, and survived things nobody even knew I was going through. That's why my circle is small now. Real ones don't need attention, loyalty speaks louder than words