Everyone Say Thank U Cooper

translation: when you're mad at me, remember this is who you're yelling at!!

When a woman is consistently spoken to softly & treated gently, she becomes a new woman. You're helping her heal her nervous system, you're helping her heal generational trauma, you're allowing her feminine energy to flourish, you're helping her to remember who she is.

me and my pornbots are gonna need a minute because 😖😣😫🤩

guys zendaya cut her hair

The sprouse brothers better feel like Italian today.

I’ve seen a lot of posts on my dash tonight about users who are threatening suicide, with other Tumblr members posting in effort to try to get ahold of them. I think you all should see this:

IF THERE IS EVER A TUMBLR USER WHO HAS POSTED A GOOD-BYE MESSAGE, SUICIDE NOTE, VIDEO, OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT, PLEASE FOLLOW THIS POST.

1. Scroll to the top of your dashboard.

2. See the circular question mark icon at the top? It’s the third one over from your home symbol. Click on that, and a screen similar to the one in the picture will come up.

3. Where you can type in questions, the box with the magnifying glass at the top, type in the word “suicide.”

4. Click on the first link that shows up. It should say, “Pass the URL of the blog on to us.”

5. Type in the user’s URL and tell Tumblr admin that the user is contemplating suicide and has posted a message indicating that they are going through with it or will be attempting. Hit send! Tumblr administration will perform a number of actions to contact the user and take the necessary steps to prevent the suicide.

TUMBLR: THIS COULD SAVE A USER’S LIFE. PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE SUICIDE THREATS.

Reblog this to keep other users aware. Suicide isn’t a joke, and neither is someone’s life. If you didn’t know this, someone else may not, either. Pass it on.

NORMALIZE BALLS ONCE COVID IS OVER 2021. the fashion, the music, the classiness, the memories, the FOOD.

YES 1000 TIMES YES

SYMBOLSSSS 4 U

❦ ₊ ˚ ⊹ ིྀ ᶻ 𝘇 … ೀ

사랑 ૮꒰ྀི ୨ ៸៸៸ ୧ ྀི꒱ა ❤︎ ໋𓈒 ◍

౨ৎ　୨˚̣̣̣୧　୨୧　੭୧　೨౿　ೀ　𝜗ৎ　𖧁୧
ꪆ୧　೨୧　୨ৎ　𝜗౿　𑄽𑄺　᧔᧓　𝒢𑄺　𝜗𝜚　𝜗ৎ

⦃ ⦄　⦅ ⦆　⦇ ⦈　⦉ ⦊　⧼ ⧽　﹙ ﹚　﹛ ﹜
﹝ ﹞　𓆩 𓆪　꒰ ꒱　ཐི ཋྀ　ପ ଓ　⊱⊰
ઇଓ　⪩⪨　꒰ఎ ໒꒱　꒰ঌ ໒꒱　᠀୧

𓎟　𓎡　𓎢　✿　❀　｡　˚　˳　∘　◡
◠　ᴗ　ᴖ　╭　╯　╰　╮　⟢　⟣　⟡　❛
❜　❝　❞　☆　★　✦　⋆　✰　✮　✩　✧
𓈒　₊　⁺　ʚ　ɞ　⁾　₍　₎　⁽　𓂃　♡　♥︎
⌣　　⌢　⠀╬⠀╪　⌓　†　⏖　⊹　✙　✚　⦂
†⃨⃰ 　⠀།† ‧̍̊ ི 　⠀⦅ྐ✚͜͡⦆

◞◟◝◜⠀˚. ˖ ۫⠀♱◌⠀𖥟⠀·͙⠀𖧧̣̥⠀𖥨᩠ׄ݁⠀༢ུ⠀𓉳
◟ ͜ ◞⠀◜ ͡ ◝

⊃ ⠀◌ ⠀┄⠀ 𝒢 ⠀◞⠀ ⁺⠀ ⥰ ⠀𓍢 ⠀𓂃 ⠀𓂅 ⠀𓏲 ⠀ᴗ⠀ᴖ⠀﹒⠀♰⠀♱⠀☆⠀★⠀✦⠀✰⠀˚⠀｡⠀。⠀˳⠀﹐⠀†⠀┄⠀𓂅⠀⊂⠀⊃⠀∪⠀⋂⠀✿⠀―⠀﹢⠀﹘⠀𓈊⠀𓎟⠀𓎡⠀◠⠀◡⠀ᶻz⠀╰⠀╮⠀╭⠀╯⠀◞⠀ ◟⠀◜⠀◝⠀ıllı⠀ꜝ⠀⚢⠀⚣⠀⚥⠀₊⠀𝜗𝜚⠀﹫⠀♩⠀𓏲⠀𝄢⠀∿⠀⊰⠀⟡⠀⊹⠀ʬʬ⠀꜆⠀ ˘⠀➴⠀♪⠀═╪⠀⩇⠀︵⠀﹑⠀⇄⠀⇅⠀⇉⠀—⠀ꜜ⠀♫⠀⥰⠀⤷⠀◌⠀♡⠀♥︎⠀⦂⠀⋌⠀⋋⠀⁾⠀⟆⠀⬭⠀⬬⠀＞⠀＜⠀︿⠀⍵⠀﹙⠀﹚⠀⏆⠀🜲⠀❛⠀❜⠀➳⠀⿸⠀┈⠀⪩⠀⪨⠀➷⠀⌓⠀₎⠀⤹⠀✻⠀─⠀✾⠀⊢⠀⤶⠀﹏⠀❀⠀⫟⠀↶⠀⟡⠀▽⠀⑅⠀⏖⠀↺⠀↷⠀⁘⠀═╬⠀⟢⠀⸝⠀❝⠀❞⠀⿻⠀﹕©⠀━━╋━⠀✞⠀𝄞⠀╱⠀╲⠀⠀⌣⌣⠀⠀⌢⠀⠀♮⠀⁺⠀ꜛ⠀﹪⠀⚘⠀⭒⠀︶⠀✧⠀ᵎ⠀⭑⠀˒⠀˓⠀﹗⠀⁾⠀⏦⠀˼⠀𓏏⠀×⠀✮⠀✩⠀⧼⠀⧽⠀⩋⠀✺⠀𝜗𝒞⠀₍⠀✤⠀•⠀│⠀﹣⠀♬⠀𐐩⠀˛⠀➛⠀🝮⠀𓂂⠀⤾⠀❦⠀➥⠀☾⠀☽⠀𓈒⠀╬═⠀⬩⠀∬⠀〣⠀×⠀𐐪⠀ɞ⠀﹔⠀✸⠀𝛏⠀⨳⠀⏇⠀𓎟⠀𓎢⠀𓎡⠀𓎠⠀𓏏⠀𓌔⠀𝒢𝒞⠀𝜗𐑞⠀𝒢ϱ⠀𝜗⍴⠀𝒢℘⠀𝜕ℯ⠀
◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞◟ ͜ ◞　♡⃟͚̊　‧✧̣̥̇‧　𓃹　ᦸᩚ　꒰ꦼ　｡ﾟ　ᨳ᭬　྇　🂱　𓋫　︶　☾☽　✧　◞◟◝◜　◜ི◝ྀ　◝ྀ　ୢ˚.　˖ ۫　♱◌　𖥟　·͙　𖧧̣̥　𖥨᩠ׄ݁　ུᩧ　༢ུ　ྀུ　𓉳　໒ ᩧ꒱　໒ ᩧ　꒰ᩧ৯　꒰ᩧv৯　ཤ　ཥ　 ^ིྀ　♡ྀི　ꢆ　♡̶　♡ྀ　♡̷　♡̵　𝒢　𝒢𑄺　𐔌　꣓　ᘛ　ᘚ　𑣿ྀིྀ　◟ ͜ ◞　◜ ͡ ◝　♪　♩　♫　♬　𓏏𓏏　𓎟𓎟　†๋　†ั　꒰͡†　　☆　★　𖩤𖩣　𖩨　𖾞　𖾝　𖾜　𛱺　𛱻　𛱼　𝜗𝜚　𞥙　𑅛𑅫　𑐉　𑐈　𑒱　𑒲　𑙗　𑙙　𑙗𑙙　𑙑　𑙒　𑙕　𑚅　𑚮　𑜩　𑅝　𑅞　𑅕　𑅒　𑅫　𑅛　ꢸ　ꢹ　ꢶ　ꣀ　꣑　꣒　꣑꣒　ꦃ　ꦌ　꣑ꦌ　꧌　꧊　ꦿ　ꫂ　　︩　︪　𐏐　𐏑　𐨿　𐨠　᭟　᭕　᭔　ᭃ　ᭂ　ᬾ　ᬿ　ᬹ　ᬸ　⚸　❧　❦　⨢　⨥　⼎　、　〟　꒸　꒹　ꢷ　ु　ो　ऻ　२　६२　া　ໃ　ໃ𑄺　༑　༈　༬　༩　༳　༲　ႛ　ႚ　℘　꒰　꒱　꒰꒱　ཊ　ཉ　𑁘　𑁙　𑁚　𑁤　𑁥　𑁨　𑁩　𑁬　𑁭　𑁯　𑄻　ᓭི　ᓯྀ　✚　ᛪ༙　✚　ᛪ༙　𝄢　❀　　ꮽི　༏ྀ𑇒　ᩘ♱ྀི　𓉸ྀི　հ　𓍼　𓏲　༉　ℓ　　་།་　། ິ　꒦ີ　๑⃙⃘　⋟　⋞　ᓭི༏　༏ᓯྀ　༏　’　༘　˚　εϊз　𓋼　𓍊　◛　ꈊ　✚　ꗃ　ᩘ　❀　𓎟⠀　૮꒰ྀི　૮　꒱ྀིა　ა　૮ིྀ　ིྀა　┣▇▇▇═──　ℜ　ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ　ᐢ.ˬ. ᐢ　ᦲ ᆺ ᦲ　:‹　♡̵　❧⠀╳　✕　༻　༺　✁　✃　࿐　༊　ᶿ̴̤᷇ ˒̫ ᶿ̴̤᷆　†⃨　﹒　. ۫ ·　᧔᧓　˖ ࣪ㅤㅤꪮꫀ　⠀͡꒱　·̩͙　꒰͡𑁬　　ྀུ ࿐　﹒　ིྀ　　ˋૢ　ೃ࿔　‎ ִֶָ ᤴ　ཐི ཋྀ　ཐ ཋ　𓏴　𓏵　࿐　ꪮ𑁨　𑁥𑄺　𑁘 𑁙 𑁚 𑁤 𑁥 𑁦 𑁨 𑁩 𑁬 𑁭 𑁯 𑄻　𓏶　ృ　𓂂　　࿐ྂ。　๋　ั　ꪇ　ꪻ　ꪮ౿　𝜗౿　𑄽𑄺　ᤳ　♱　♰　✟　✞　✝︎　☨　†　┊　𓋜　．﹒　𐙚　೨౿　੭୧　౨ৎ　୨୧　୨˚̣̣̣୧　ꔫ　ꪆৎ　𖧁୧　౨୧　೨୧
୨ৎ　𓈒 ݂۫ ׄ　𓈒 ׄ　　̫　ೃ　ಌ　ʚ ɞ　ᜊ　໒　૮ ა　ణ ഒ　ᨳ ഒ　◜ ͡ ◝　◟ ͜ ◞　⑅　ೀ　𝜗ৎ　꒰ྀི　꒱ྀི　꒰ྀི ꒱ྀིིྀ　✎⠀⠀꒰⠀⠀꒱⠀⠀࿀⠀⠀౨ৎ⠀⠀︵⠀⠀Ⳋ⠀⠀⊹⠀⠀𝅄⠀⠀୨⠀⠀ೀ⠀⠀ꔫ⠀⠀〇⠀⠀⍰⠀⠀ര⠀⠀ᝪ⠀⠀ ೀ⠀⠀ױ⠀⠀♡𝅼 ⠀⠀๑⠀⠀୨୧⠀⠀꒪⠀⠀⟡⠀⠀✧⠀⠀✦⠀⠀ ꒩⠀⠀／⠀⠀✐⠀⠀᜴⠀⠀⠀⠀⃞⠀⠀⠀⠀⃝⠀✽⠀⠀ᰈ̠⠀⠀✩⠀⠀ꮼ⠀⠀ꮽ᤻⠀⠀▞⠀⠀⑇⠀⠀ᄶ⠀⠀⌒⠀⠀⌕⠀⠀‹𝟹⠀⠀ᄊ⠀⠀♡⃘ ⠀⠀⠀₊⠀⠀⠀˲˲⠀⠀ഒ⠀⠀᱖⠀⠀♡⃕⠀⠀✿𝆬⠀⠀￮⃘ ⠀⠀✩⃝ ⃝=͟͟͞ ✧⠀⠀♡⃞⠀ᜊ⠀⠀𖧧⠀⠀੭⠀⠀࿁⠀⠀˙⠀⠀˖⠀⠀ꕀ⠀⠀𓈒⠀⠀˙　𐙚　೨౿　੭୧　౨ৎ　୨୧　୨˚̣̣̣୧　ꔫ　ꪆৎ　𖧁୧　♡ ━╂　╬═　❁　𓊆 𓊇　𓌈　𓈀　ᕱ.ᕱ　࿔　ଓ　ઇ　ઉ　᧙　ᥐ　៸　໒　ː　՞　Ꮗ　ᴗ　•　❍　〔 〕　⌜ ⌝ ⌞ ⌟　꧔　︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵　ᕱ୨♡୧ᕱ　𑁯　╰┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮　―　┄　│　┈　╱　╲　─　﹏　﹘　𓌔　═　︶　ꔫ　ꈍ　ε з　ଓ 　(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)　⸝⸝ ҂ 　∪ ⋂ ⋃⊂ ⊃　˗ˏˋ ˎˊ˗ 　 ◣ ◥　ω　☆　ଲ　𐙚 . ˙ 𖧧 ₊ ˚ 　꒷︶꒷꒥꒷ 𝟅𝟈𝞋𝞎 𝝑𝝔 𝜗𝜚 𝛝𝛠 ϑϱ ꝯϱ 𝜗𝜚 𝜗𝒞﹒ ˚ ｡ ⠀。 ˳ • ◌ ⬭ ⬬ 〇 𓂂 𓈒 𓎟𓎟 ✚ ✛ ✜ ♰ ♱ † ✞ ✟ ☥ ☨ ⸸ ═╪ ═╬ ━━╋━ ☆ ★ ✰ ✮ ✭ ✬ ✫ ✦ ✧ ⟡ ⊹ 𝅄 ⭒ ♡ ‹𝟹 ❥ ♥︎ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ 𝄞 ﹐ ꜝ ﹫ ⦂ ﹪ ﹔ ︖  𓂃 𓏲 ∿ ⊰ ❛ ❜ ⁘ ❝ ❞ © 𐐪ɞ 𝛏 ／ 𝇂 𐙚 ᶻz 𓈊 ⌓ ⑅ ⏦ ﹏ ✿ ❀ ❁ ✾ ❅ ✐ ⌕  ⸝ 𝇁𝇃 ıllı ﹘ ﹣ =͟͟͞  ⟅ıIIı⟆ “ ” „ ‟ ‘ ’ ‚ ‛ ᴗ ᴖ ⊂ ⊃ ∪ ⋂ ◠◠ ◡◡ ╰ ╮ ╭ ╯ ◞  ◟ ◜ ◝ ︵︵ ﹙ ﹚ ₍ ⁾ ₎ ⠀⌣⌣⠀ ⠀⌢⠀ ︶︶ ᵔ ⏑ ⏖ ˍ ⎯ ‒ ― ─ ─ ━ ┄ ┅ ┈ ┉ ╌ ╍ ➔ ➘ ➙ ➚ ➜ ➝ ➞ ⋆ ✰ ɞ ଘ ﹅ ՙ 𓄼 ｡ ✰ ⿻ ᕱ ⑅ ⌕ ◜ ◝ ◕ ◔ ⨾ ᕬ ꧔ ࿔ ✧ •᷄ࡇ•᷅ ୭✦ ♡ ˒˒ ، ꒦꒷ ᯽ ⋆ ✰ ɞ ଘ ﹅ ՙ 𓄼 ପ ᨳ 𖧧 ᨦ 𓂅 𓄹 ⍝ ﹆ ≀﹟ ‹𝟹 ៸៸ ✿𝆬 ৎ୭ ﹏ ੭ ໒〝 ҂ ִֶָ ꃋᴖꃋ 𖦹 ∞ ᘏ ᨒ 𖥻 ᠈ ꐑꗃᨵ𓈈 ⬫ 𓍯 ⩩ ♡̶！ ʾʾ₍ ᐢ..ᐢ ₎ ՙ ૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა . 𖣯 ⋆ ˖ ࣪ ! 𓈈𓂃⬫ ׂ ׅ 𓂃 ૮₍ ៸៸ ᵜ ก ₎ა ֶָ ׁ ❁̶ (●´⌓`●) ᘒ ˖˙‹𝟯 ▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀ ◌ ⊹ 🍸 ◜｡ ࣪ ⁺⋆𖧷 ⊹○ﾟ˖ 𓆦 ₊˚ ※  ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ 𖥦 ⸱៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ 𓂃ˑ ֗ ˖⋆⑅˚₊ ۫ ⁎ .  𓏲࣪ ּ  ֗ ִ  ּ ۪  ⊹ 𓄹 ࣪ . ݁ ٬٬ ࣪﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡﹒〇﹒ıllı﹒ᶻz﹒⊂⊃﹒␥﹒⿸﹒ꔠ﹒✶﹒◍﹒▿﹒⤸﹒⬚﹒៶៸﹒△﹒→﹒✶﹒（）﹒▥﹒⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ 𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚⊹♡ : ̗̀➛ ׂׂૢ ╰┈➤ ✎ - ,, -‘๑’- ・❥・ ༊*·˚ ˗ˏˋ´ˎ˗ . *. ⋆ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ✧.* ೃ⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ·˚ ༘ *ೃ༄ .ೃ࿐ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔:･ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ┊͙ ˘͈ᵕ˘͈ ⍣ ೋ ‗ ❍ ¡! ❞ ﹌﹌﹌ 彡 ▓ ღ ꕥ ‿‿‿‿ *+:｡.｡ •·.·''·.·• ·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ * ˚ ✦ ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- . . . . . ╰──╮ ╭──╯ . . . . . ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞ - ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌ ✧˚ · . ˚ · . ༉‧₊˚. '•.¸♡ ♡¸.•' +:ꔫ:﹤ ﹥:ꔫ:+ﾟ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ ୨୧ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ࿐ྂ ≡;- ꒰ ° ꒱ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫⎙ ⩇ ⩉ ꐑ 𖣯 ⌕ ᨒ ᯤ ᯅ 𖤘 � 𖥦 ⏃ % 𓍯 𔗫 𔖲 𓂃 ﹆ ﹅ 𓄼 𓄹 ᭣ ꧞ 𓏲 𓂅 ꣼ ࿓ ࿔ ༄ ⌗ 𓈒 ⊹ 𖥔 ᨵ ꑘ ᜊ ᦒ ଘ ◖ ◗𖠗 ꗃ ٩ ะ ≛ ߸ 𖡡 𝆺𝅥 ꩜ 𖣠 𖦹 ❤︎ ♥︎ 𔘓⁩ ♡ ᥫ᭡ ✶ 𖤐 ★ 𒀭 𑁍 ꕤ ❑ ❒ !i！？!!﹗⦂ 𓈃 𓄲 𓄴 𓈀 𓊔 ❝ ❞ ❛❜ ୨୧ ‣ › ⌫ ✧ ✦⭒ ✓ ✘ 𓈈 ᚙ ⩨ ▚ ₆⁶₆ ஃ ⿴ ⿻ ꭑ ᧑ 𐐫 𝗈︩︪ ꒰ ꒱ ʚ ɞ “” ⌨︎ ⚠︎ ꒰꒱ ☻ ✰ ❏ ˖* ೃ࿔ 𓆉◡̈ ꒦꒷ ✎ ᝰ ✿ ⚡︎ ☁︎ ⋆ ⋆⑅˚₊ ♡̆̈ 𓍲 𓍱 ꪔ̤̥ 𓍯 ꊞ 𓂃 ꕀ ﹆ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ⤾ ・°☆ ✎ ̼ ◡̈ ⑅ ♡̷ 𖦹 ･͛♡̷̷̷･͛ ᐧ༚̮ᐧ =͟͟͞♡ εїз ᙏ̤̫ ˳✧༚ /✿ ˙ᘧ ͜ ˙ ♡ ⊸ ꒰ ❛ ❜ ꒱ ‎♡⃕ ◡̈ ˚◞♡ ⃗ ʬʬʬ ༊·˚ ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖° ꪔ̤̥ ˙ ͜ʟ˙ ‎♡‧₊˚ ◡̎ ♡̷ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ 𓆸 ꔛ *﹆ =͟͟͞ ♡̩͙ ꙳ ⋆ ⸝⸝ യ *◞ ♡･ ͜ʖ ･ . ˚◞♡ ෆ ･῾ ᵎ ⌇ ⁺◦ *´ސު｀ ‎ ༘⋆ ꙳ ꕀ ꒰ 𖧧 ·͜·♡ ꒱ ღ ⋆ ꕤ ♡ ⊹ ★꒷ ᵎᵎ ₊ ⨾ ⋆ ʚ ɞ ✦ ♥︎ ∞ 𑁍 𓍯　　⸝⸝⸝　　𓅿　　𖠋　　𓍲 𓍱　　𖥧 𖧧 ˒˒ 𖤣𖤥𖠿𖤣𖤥　　𓇥 　֒　　☄︎　　𓆱　　𓂃𓊝𓄹𓄺 ‎　𓌉◯𓇋　　𓎩 ⸝⸝　　𓌈˒˒　　⍤　　𓆸 𓊆 𓊇　　꒰ ꒱　　˗ˏˋ ˎˊ˗　　⌇　　ꪔ̤̮　　ꪔ̤̥ • + . ˙ ✦ ♡ㅤ°. • °. ✿ * · ✮ . • • ⊹ . ✧ ⊹　 ˚ 　 * · 　 ✮ . .　 ★ ·　 ⊹　 + * 　 ⊹ 　 °. * ✧ .𓈀 𖦥 ﹅ ンㅤꞋꞌꞋꞌ

⤷ 𓂅 ◞ ⥰ by : yinnaers

"I feel so normal about him" well I dont. move

@babsworlds stumbling upon this was the best part of my day today!

SCHOOL STRUGGLES.

pairing. Dave Lizewski x fem! reader

synopsis. you struggle with school a lot, but no matter what, your boyfriend is always here for you.

warnings. angst, mental struggles, school struggles, no use of y/n. I decided to mirror my own problems into this fic. I struggle with school, and if you do too, you’re not alone, don’t be afraid of asking for help!

FOR SEVERAL LONG MONTHS, you’d been struggling with every aspect of school—grades teetering on the edge, studying feeling like an impossible task, and attendance becoming a burden you couldn’t bear.

Each night you went to sleep with hope and wishes to never wake up again, but when you woke up every morning, it was disappointing.

Your mind was locked in a dark place, a mental block that kept you from focusing on anything related to school. Books and assignments became like foreign objects, strange and impossible to engage with.

Most days, you found yourself wandering aimlessly, going anywhere other than the dreaded classrooms. School turned into a place you despised, filled with people you disliked, teachers who seemed to drain your energy with every word, and the endless homework that left you completely exhausted.

Dave, your ever-supportive boyfriend, noticed the change in you. He worried endlessly about your constant absence, knowing how much you were skipping school. He tried his best to help, offering to walk to classes with you, hoping that his presence could make it a bit easier. But despite his best efforts, nothing seemed to change, and your steps continued to stray from the school’s doors.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere at home grew tense and filled with arguments. Your parents’ patience was wearing thin as they saw you neglecting your only responsibility: school. “You only have to focus on school,” they’d remind you in every heated argument. Their anger and disappointment hung heavy in the air, making the walls of your home feel like they were closing in on you.

You were exhausted from failing every test, overwhelmed by the looming dread of yet another academic setback. Despite the frustration and disappointment you felt, the motivation to study remained elusive. It was an endless circle of anxiety and avoidance, a cycle that seemed impossible to break.

It was a late weekend night, and you found yourself on a video call with Dave. Your parents had forbidden you from going to his house for a sleepover because of your poor grades, adding to your already heavy heart.

“I’m so sorry, Dave,” you began to apologize, your voice heavy with emotion. “I feel like shit,” you said, gazing at your boyfriend on the notebook screen.

“Don’t say that, baby,” Dave tried to calm you down, his voice soothing and gentle. But the words did little to stem the tide of salty tears forming in your eyes. “I’m stupid,” you admitted, “and because of my grades, we can’t have a sleepover.”

Dave’s expression softened, his concern evident. “You’re not stupid,” he reassured you. “We’ll get through this together. It’s just a rough patch, and it doesn’t define you.”

The weight of your struggles pressed heavily on your heart, driving tears down your cheeks. “I wish I could just disappear. I wouldn’t care about the absence or grades,” you cried out, the hopelessness in your voice stark and raw. You wished everything would just end right then and there.

Dave’s eyes lit up with a sudden idea. “You know what, baby? I’m coming over. Just leave your window open,” he announced, his grin widening with excitement.

“Your parents forbade you from coming to my place, but they didn’t say anything about me coming to yours,” he smirked, always looking for ways to find a loophole and support his precious girlfriend.

“No, Dave, you really don’t have to—” you started to assure him, but he was already set on his plan. He hung up the call quickly, not giving you a chance to protest.

You couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope at his determination. As you left your window open for him, a small sliver of comfort crept into your heart.

Dave lived just two blocks away, so it didn’t take him long to reach your house. After a few minutes, you heard noises outside your window and spotted Dave climbing in.

“Hi, baby,” Dave smiled at you, pulling you into a tight, welcoming hug. “I missed you so much,” you whispered into his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace as he kissed your hair.

You both sat on your bed, and once again, salty tears began to stream down your face. “I’m so shitty, why am I so stupid?” you choked on your tears, sobbing violently into Dave’s chest. “I’m a shitty student, daughter, girlfriend…”

Dave broke the tight hug and looked into your eyes. “Don’t ever say that again,” he warned gently but firmly. His eyes were filled with concern and determination, wanting to help you see the worth you couldn’t find in yourself.

“Just because you’re struggling now doesn’t mean it’s forever. You’re a smart girl. I know it,” Dave started, his thumb gently rubbing your cheeks.

“And I’m not exactly an academic weapon, but if you need help with studying, I’ll do my best to help you, baby,” he continued, his voice filled with unwavering support and love.

“I love you and I’m always here for you,” Dave said, his words wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Those were the words you needed to hear.

“Tomorrow we can go for a walk, and on Monday, we can try to get you back into school,” Dave offered, gently tucking a strand of your long hair behind your ear.

“I love you,” you replied, pulling him into a hug once again, feeling a sense of comfort and hope in his embrace.

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