as I write, I write spontaneously, quickly, do not miss a word of what I have in mind. you write like that. Falls silently in my life, and your absence then it starts to get confused. Chaos immense. Entropy. I am writing to tell you that I hate, yes ... I hate you. And I wish I could tell you, and to prove it. For the evil you did to me, for the evil you do to me, for what you take me to the part of me that you killed, for when you make me born again and again for all you did to me then I die. I hate you, for you managed to fill that void. I hate you for leaving me with no alternative, for turning my nights in a long nightmare, I hate you for the hugs that you gave me. I hate you for teaching me to recognize the beat of a happy heart, my heart happy, so now I know that noise is not the happiness I'll be satisfied longer. I hate you for this, and much more. And I hate myself. I hate myself because I'm new to this, and I hate when I'm waiting in your message that never arrives, and I hate it because I did not create alternatives. I hate myself because your departure brings me sadness. I hate you and I hate myself.
There hatred.
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