Put out your cigarette in my hand.
Burn me please.
These nights I spent with you are perfect.
And no light can exist in this world without darkness.
No joy without pain.
There has been no pain.
So please, G̷̛̔͑̓̈́̊́̓̀͛̉̃͊̓̂̋͆̒̎͂̃̃͋̏̂̀̇̄̇̾͆̇̑̈́͗͑͂̈́̅͗̊͊̉̅͂͐̊̄̈͑͋̕̚͘̚̚̕͝͝͠͝͠͠­̢̨̡̡̞̖̙͓̳̰̪̪̻̣͕̭̝̻̹̙͎͙̭̪̤̺̙͕̹̭͔͙̰̼̗̟̔̎̈́́̃̓͜ͅo̸̓̎͌̽̒̐͌̈́́͊͊̊̊͋̈́͐̋͗̚­̨̛͇͚̮̫͈͚̲̙͇̙̮͍͇̄̽̀̒̈́̏͆͒͗̇̾̋̀̄̅̊̋̀̍́̊̂̽̈́͐̈̿̐̏̂͑͋̍͋͋͛̋̇̀͑͂͘͘͘̚͝͝͝͝͠­̨̢̡̢̢̡̧̮̤̪̞̬̟͍͔̺̝͔̣̦̼̯͓͈̜̝͕̗̟͉̯͔͕̠̳̠͎̖̺͉͎̹̗̫͎̻̙̯̪̱͚̫̳͈͜͜ͅd̸͋͊̃̍̃̇­̨̨̧̨̢̢̬͉̫͓̥̣̝̝͇̠̮̗̜͕͍͚̤̳̭̪̜̳͙̣͙̝̰̲̳͇̮̱̩͔̯͗̿͂̂̊͂̐̑̄̓̉̎̾̑͗̆̈́̒̕̕͜͠ͅͅ­̨̡̧̡̢̧̧̧̞̲̯̮̥̻̲͓͖͇̻̫͉̭̲̪̙̤͈̲̫̼͈̺͈̱͇̹̮̰̻͉̞͓̣̙̭̙̜͕̝̟̫̝͓̫̰̩̙̞̜̹̪͜͜͜ͅ­̡̧̢̨͎̤̞̘͇͔͓͔̦͇̮̺̖̯͎̬͓̟̙͇̖̠̯̯̩, hurt me so I can know that this is R̶̨͕͔̘͉͉̳͎͔̟̣̤͈̬̫̭̥̟͙͕̟̬̎̏̊̌̍͌͌̽̐̇̽̌͑̒̓͗̽̄̅́̀͗̃̇̎̿̒̔̾̈́̀̊̚͘͘̕̕̚͜͠ͅ­̡̨̡̡̧̡̤̱͖̗̫̘͉͈̮̞͎̱̰̜̹̞̖̞̥͎̩̥͙̥͖̻͉̲̭̳̟̖͎͎̟̤̩̪͈̘͔̘̣͇̤͈̠̩̦̞͉̘͉̱̝̞̭͜ͅ­̧̨̡̨̢̢̧̢͚͔̪̣͕̙̗̯̯̥̖̯͍͚̟̫͙͓̦͖̠̱͔̥͇̪̘̪̙̖͚͓̩̲͍̦̗̝̬̣̗̲͍̖͜͜e̷͐̀̓͆̇͗̉̀̚­̨̛̛̛̫̥͈͈̼̼́̿̑̅̄͛̏̂̔͊̏̃̾̃͌̉̓̍̀̀́̂̍͌͗̄̓̓̅̍͐͑͗̌͗̏͗̾̓̄͋̉̌́̎͛̆̈́͒͂́̚̚͝͠­̧̱̟̰̻̗̜͚̗:̸̐̓̀̔̎͗̆͐́̅́̎̀̄͆̀̈̆̌̿̐͊̀̉̄͐͌̎̆̋̌͒̆̐͒͆̆̌̋́̌͛̃͊̀͒̃̉͊̚̕͝͝͠­̢̡̢̛̛͓̤̫͙̱͔̝͎̹̰͙͉͖̳͚̟̲̝̟̺͈͍͚̊̽̃͋̊͒̉̇̉̉́͐͋͛̉̉̊̾̓̎̓̎̈́̓̈̉́̓̊̀̎̋̅̅̓͠ͅ­̧̨̢̢̨̱̤͉̠͉͈̭̹̜͖̙̪͔͈̦̣̜̼̦̼̺͎̘͔͖̩͖̣̗̳̼̰̻̘͚͕̟̣͇̘̭̪̜̘̩̝̰̯͜͜͜ͅͅͅA̷̛̛̍̕­̛̛̛̓̔̋̇̓̃̎̄̍̑̆̔̋̊̒̿̓͑͒̃̀͑̽̿́̈́̄̂̌̔̒̽͛͂́̐̍͋̇͗̾̏͌̌̉̓̍̽̈́͐͛̈́̀͆͒̍͗͘̚͝͠͝­̢̛͖͖̞͇̂̑̋̍̉̊̐̈́͌̋̄͑̉͛̂̎͛̌̐͌̊̔́̇͘͝L̶͋̀̈́̇͑̔͑̐̾͊̽̅́̿͛̀̇̽̍̆̉́̈́͐͆͂͘̚͠͠͝­̂͒̏̓̉̑͛̃̿̔͑̄̂̉̌̒̐͛̍̎̈́̆̈̐̀͆̐̓̽́̔̀̎́̇̽͗̔͑̈́̂̎̑̐̒̐͋͛̈͊͆͊̅̂́̿̔͌͗̕͘͠͝͝͝­̰̼̠̪̪̭̗̜̤͙̥͚͉̤̺̲̮̦̗̰͙͆̍̈̔̋̈͐̽͊̿̇́̍̎̈́̀͊̒̀̈́̊͛̎̏͒̑̓̒͌̒̅́̽͛̋͘̕͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅ­̢͉̺̬̱̦͖̜͓̣̣̜̱͕̜̫͔̝̫ͅ.

I want this to be real.