I woke up again in the middle of the night. something won't let me sleep. 'the past is dead', i said to myself. but it wasn't. you can't run away from your past, you will only end up running in circles. it will catch you back in its treachery, only more gripping this time, more mysteriously. my hands were trembling. i wanted to kill someone. kill someone for my own satisfaction. i wanted to hit someone and watch him bleed, slowly slipping into unconsciousness.
my table clock was making me a rhythmic sound, that used to make me believe that i am here now, and the time is passing. i hated it. i didn't want to be here, i didn't want to live the present. i wanted to go to my past, especially that point, which i hated the most. 'I am lying to myself, i guess i don't even know what i want'