Unsuccesful experiment

It was just too easy to be true...
But in the end, we did not come back, perhaps because this is not the real end. I don't really know what came back, instead of a cured me, something sicker showed up. Instead of solving the problem we created a bigger one we have no idea how to deal with...
Perhaps because we didn't know how to deal with the initial problem, we didn't know what since the start. Like being fifteen years old again... with a problem off the scale.
But instead of something that's made of concentrated hatred, there's a chance we're dealing with some other thing, that disguises itself behind all this rage. Actually, it doesn't really matter, I just don't think I can keep the appearances for much longer. It's a shame, because they really believe I have came back. As I promised I would return. But you know what? Something in here says it doesn't really matter. Perhaps nothing matters at all.
But I'm not a menace to those around me. I'll just drive them away within time. I hate all this.
I hate this emptiness. I hate this despair that walks with me everywhere. I hate people talking to me when I'm among my thoughts. I hate people trying to get my attention, if I actually cared about whatever the fuck are you doing, I would give attention from the beginning. I hate not being able to sleep normally. I hate waking up tired. In some way, I hate sleeping. I hate not being able to forget what I'd rather forget like every normal person. I hate the fact that none of the help you can give me will work. I hate waiting for one who can help. I hate bothering people with this shit. I hate noisy people. I hate hope. I hate not being able to destroy those around me. Sometimes I hate being different. I hate this urge to cry. I hate this desire for one who can hold me and make it all go away. I hate.


Please make me sleep.