I needed to go back to the hospital if I ever feel like it's too painful, she said.

I don't think the hospital can heal this pain.

"Be careful, okay? Make sure you get better."

I said I'm going to be okay, but recently I've gotten better at lying. Hiding.

"Make sure you get better." She said, her eyes concerned. An expression so unfamiliar, that it looks almost unrecognizable.

But do I want to get better and get hated again?

I don't want to. You want me like this.