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I have nothing but my sorrow and I want nothing more. It has been, it still is, faithful to me.
Why should I begrudge it, since during the hours when my soul crushed the depths of my heart, it was seated there beside me?
O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.
Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.
O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠀⠀⢀⡠⠧⣠⢶⡒⡒⡢⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⣤⣖⢅⣴⠟⠀⠙⢟⢎⢢⢠⠑⢭⣢⡀⡸⠀⠀⡇⠀⢸⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢄⠀⠀⣆⣾⢏⣵⢯⣅⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡄⢡⠈⢌⡞⢼⠃⠀⢸⠁⠀⡘⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⡿⠀⠑⢺⣾⣥⣾⣥⣤⠉⠀⠐⠒⠒⠚⣿⠀⠇⢞⣴⡇⠀⠀⡏⡀⠰⠁⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠇⠀⠱⡆⠀⢲⡟⣿⣵⣿⡿⣷⠀⠀⣴⡷⣶⣿⡄⠸⠘⣱⠇⠀⡸⠁⢠⠃⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡄⠀⠀⣸⣸⠁⢀⠁⠘⠂⠀⠴⢞⣿⣿⣯⣿⣶⣤⣻⣄⠰⢙⣠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⠿⣧⡍⠒⠧⢿⡀⠀⣿⣯⣶⡤⣀⠀⠈⠙⠻⡏⢹⡇⢸⡄⢀⡔⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⢿⣶⡶⠒⠒⠒⠒⠂⠤⢀⡴⠉⠙⠓⠚⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠢⣏⠟⣹⠿⠃⠀⢰⠅⢠⢳⡎⣇⡏⠁⡜⡇⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢮⠁⠀⠀⠀⢈⣴⠏⠘⣃⢿⣷⢺⠰⡏⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢓⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⠒⡒⠉⡱⣿⣷⣶⢿⡘⣿⣸⡄⡇⠺⣪⢆⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠈⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡆⠀⠀⠙⠛⠊⠉⠹⣿⡜⣯⣆⣸⣇⣞⢕⡵⡀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⡄⢱⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣜⢿⣧⢿⡼⡞⣿⣷⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠳⡀⠈⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⣽⣫⠷⠽⠛⠛⠂
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⢾⠃⠈⡧⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢿⣗⡢⣤⠤⠒⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⡈⠯⠑⠒⣲⡟⠉⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠗⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠄⠀⢠⡏⠀⠀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡘⡇⢠⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⠃
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢠⢹⠀⡇⡎⠀⠀⠀⢀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⡀⢀⣠⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⠀
⣠⠀⠀⢠⢀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⣣⠋⡇⠀⠙⡿⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣻⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀
⠒⠂⠤⠤⢉⣁⣂⠤⠄⠀⣠⠀⠀⠀⡀⡕⠅⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠑⠺⢵⡣⠀⢏⠎⡁⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⢼⡇⠃⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡖⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡄⠘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠣⡘⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡗⠀⢀⡀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠈⠉⠙⠒⠦⢄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣶⣶⠾⣿⣦⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠚⢹⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⡼
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠲⠤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢠⣿⢺⠃⢠⢿⠉⡰⠙⣿⡆⠀⣠⠁⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠃⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡞⠃
⠓⠤⢄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠒⠦⠤⠤⠴⠼⢷⣿⠻⡁⠀⢸⠀⢸⠁⢠⣿⢻⣦⡀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣴⠚⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠒⠒⠠⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⡏⠀⡇⠀⠈⠀⠙⠀⢨⡻⣼⣿⡽⣗⢲⣾⡖⠖⠉⣿⢸⣇⠈⡏⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢆⠀⠀⢠⡟⢠⠇⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⡱⡏⣧⣷⢻⡄⣆⢷⢸⡇⣿⣼⣾⢠⡇⢻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⡀⠀
⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢠⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⣧⣧⣷⢹⣬⡎⣷⠘⡌⣼⡇⢻⡇⢹⢸⠃⣾⡇⠀⠰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡁⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠒⠢⠤⠤⠄⣀⣀⣀⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣿⣣⣻⢟⢟⣥⠸⡀⢱⣩⠀⢸⠇⢸⣾⢰⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⠒⠠⠴⠯⠤⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣘⣿⣉⣁⣈⣙⣾⡀⠇⠈⡟⠀⣿⣀⣷⡏⢸⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠚⠚⠛⢮⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀
sauce?
I have nothing but my sorrow and I want nothing more.
It has been, it still is, faithful to me.
Why should I begrudge it, since during the hours
when my soul crushed the depths of my heart,
it was seated there beside me?
O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you,
because I am certain you will never leave me.
Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being.
You are like those who never left
the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.
O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved:
because I know that on the day of my final agony,
you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow,
so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.
why is bro wuthering his heights like the 7 strikes
bro I saw this same message on the other chapter
that kinda looks like Mirko from MHA
that ugly old man bahaha