I know everyone will either say that what I'm about to share is normal, or alternately that the police should be called and I should be put in restraints! The Shaman I visit once a month says it's about letting the rage go. . . I'm the type of person though, if you tell me to let something go then it's your job to SHOW me how to let it go! Don't say let it go, because that fucking shit means NOTHING to me! You say let it go, and I say, ok, I'll cut or take pills or do something equally wild to let it go. At the very least I'll seek out one of those charity events where I can smash a car to smithereens with a baseball bat! I am a physical person! My rage is physical! People can't handle it, then get the fuck out my way!
Barring that noone has any fluffy ways that ACTUALLY work to get rid of it, writing is my best bet next to destroying myself. . .
I am enraged!!
Enraged enough to puke my intestines out!
Enraged enough to spit!
Enraged enough to bite!
Enraged enough to claw!
Enraged enough to destroy this whole world and everything in it and on it!
Enraged enough to spontaneously combust!
Enraged enough that I can feel my pussy tingling and my stomach burning from the inside out!
Enraged enough to feel my throat bursting with bloody raw screams, vocal chords ripping and shredding as they come spewing out!
Enraged enough to feel my neck and shoulders tighten and tense beyond belief as though I were in the fight of my life!
Enraged enough that no touch will soothe me, no song reach me, no voice placate me!
Enraged enough to hang myself months before my time!
Enraged enough to once again forsake everything I'm striving to accomplish!
Enraged enough to say fuck it all!
Enraged enough that my head pounds with gunfire!
Enraged enough that I can feel my skull cracking wide open and my brains boiling over!
Enraged enough that no part of me does not ache!
Enraged enough to BE THE RAGE I seek to release!
I am seething! Roiling! Bubbling over!!!
It's the family.
It's attempting to MARKET myself, something I refuse to do, or at least my soul refuses to do!
It's that I still won't get out enough, no matter what I do!
It's that I feel, at this very moment, like the most incompetent piece of shit on this planet!
Actually. . .
Everything I've bottled up, held in, am holding in right now.
Sure I'm typing this, but I felt like slamming that door when I brought the dog in but I didn't.
I felt like bowing my head and running headlong into the dresser, the kitchen counter, anything that would make my neck snap and kill me! But I didn't. . .
I still feel like vomiting, like burning, like destroying myself, but I'm not.
I feel like eating everything in this house, but I haven't.
I feel like I am not just in the middle of some shitty birthing process, but like I haven't even fucking crowned yet and I'm being squeezed until I fucking blow!
I feel like I will pop, burst, explode!!
I feel like sleeping forever!
I feel like running from this house, like running and running and running some more!
I can even hear my feet destroying the pavement beneath me, feel the earth herself trembling beneath this weight!!
I feel overwhelmed and underwhelmed and crushed!
I feel completely unseen and wonder what the point of being seen is anyway!
I feel vulnerable beyond all reason, like I have bared my bloody battered soul for the inspection of millions and I don't give a fuck!
But I think I really do.
I feel that my needs, my Desires mean nothing, because I mean nothing!
I feel that I'm asking too little and not getting enough, like I will NEVER get enough!!
I feel like crying and dying and screaming and breathing and bleeding and pleading!
I feel overexposed and underexposed!
I feel like noone hears me and like they do hear me but refuse to care!
I feel empty and numb and discarded and mangled!
I feel overlooked and neglected and used and abused!
I feel nothing but rage!
I won't even cry, it simply isn't in me!