Dear Diary,
I'm glad that I've go̕t a new notebook to carry around, because I think I'll need the space. At least I have this left, after everything they took from me. At least they let me write. A.̧́.̸̡.̸̨͢͝.̡.̸͏͘͝.̸̨͢͝.̡.̸͏͘͝.̡̀.̵̷̴̡͘.̀̀͘
Sometimes̸. Of course. I can't even write clearly all̷ the time. I can't even hav.̷̛̕͟͠.̶̸͝.̴̀͝.̢̕.҉̴̴͝͞.̧̧̕.̷
They chose me. I didn't want it. I told them n͜o. Then I told them no ag͠ain͏. But they won't listen and the.͘͏̧.͟
I can't go back home. They won't let̷ me. It might be weeks b͏ef̀or͡e̶ I see my mo̡t̛h͞er again, see my room ag.̸͏͡.̴̀́͜
No. I won't stop writing even͟ if it keeps going wrong because I n͠eed̛ to do some.̴̵̕.̡̛͏͝thing of my own. Show them they can'̢͟t stop me. They know I'm wri̶̵ting, they call it̛ saving, they dơ͘n't like it, they want to stopi̴t, stop me.
I thouģ͝҉̴̡h̡̧͟͠t̴̵͝ I was safe. They wouldn't come b̵̸̀̀͢a̵̡͢͠͝c͏̵̢̕k̕͏̸̴ to Unova. But Í͡ was wrong. They chose m̡͢͡e. Then I thought they'̸d҉ go away, like with that b̷̛̕ò̡̕͟͝ý̢͟͜͝, but it's been houŕs now.
T̸hey̛ w̛͡͝ơ͟n'̀t l̸͘e̶̛á̸̢̛v́̕e͏͏.̨͏҉̡.
Why me? I ņ̵̵̀͞e̸͜v̸̶̧̢̕e̴̷͢͟͠r̸̨͜ wanted them. S̨̨͟͞o̶̕͠ many others a̷̢͞n̸̶̴͟͢d̵͝ they ch̴̵͢ose me…
They chose m̕͘e. And Í̷̀͜ think th͜͟e̴ỳ͠ chose wrong. I chose T͟͡e̴̕p̵ig. And they thi̶͠n̷͢͝k I̧͏̴͠ chose wrong. Ś̨o̢͏̵ I ǵ̴̶ues̶̨̀͢͠s̡҉̷̵́ we're at an i̢̛͜m͢p̧͞͝a̷s̸͡s҉̴̴͝e̸͞.̨
Ì don̕͘'̶̧t̵ kǹ̴̛ow͜ how͘͜ much mò͡r̨͘e they'l̢̢̀͟͝l̵̴͠ let̶̡̛̀ me wri̛҉̴͞t͠e҉̶̕͝͏.̶͠
B͜u̶̡̢t̀ Í͡͝'̵͏̷̷҉l̸͠͡l̷͘͘͜ t̸͘͟҉r͘͡҉ý͢͢.̡̨̤̰͇͇͔̯͍͙̠̱̯͚̝ͅ.̀͘͏̰̼̘͙̘̲͞͞.̴̸̣̙̳͈͇̫̪͔̕͢