Why do I write violent things lol

one thing

He angrily threw his backpack at his bed, then stormed down the hallway and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and locking it.

He turns on the faucet and starts to cry. He doesn't know whether to sob or scream. He just hits the edge of the sink...

...over, and over, and over again.

He wants to tear his stupid school clothes away from his body and just curl up into a ball in the tub during a nice warm shower, letting the water rain down on his exhausted, depressed form.

His temper quickly rises and he is soon in an annoyed frenzy, quickly undoing the buttons on his school shirt and pulling it off of him. He angrily wriggles out of it before getting stuck and hitting his elbow on the edge of the sink in the process. This causes him to become even more upset and agitated, and he rips his arm from the sleeve and pulls the rest of the shirt off, throwing it angrily at the floor.

He looks in the foggy mirror to see his face, moving his bangs out of the way and wiping some condensation off the glass. He looks at his face in the mirror, seeing dark circles under his red and puffy eyes. He wipes his eyes with his hands and looks back in the mirror, letting out a little sob as he looks back at himself. He tries to regain his composure. But he's itchy.

Why is he so itchy?

He hasn't showered in a while because he's been so depressed that he just couldn't bring himself to ever do so. This really sends him over the edge and he starts to scratch all over himself: his head, his chest, his stomach, his back... Everywhere.

He ends up focusing his attention to an area on his shoulder, and scratches there until he starts to bleed. He pulls his hand away and looks at his hand, which has some blood on the fingertips and under his nails.

He looks at his shoulder in the mirror and hisses a little when he sees what he has done to himself.

He falters and breaks down crying over the sink in front of the bathroom mirror.

He just sobs.

He gets angry again and grips the edges of the sink before quickly raising a hand and punching the mirror with it. The glass warbles a bit, and, without thinking, he punches it again. And swings at it again. Before it finally breaks.

It shatters, and a bunch of glass shards rain down in a shiny, dangerous cascade into the sink. He has cut up his hand from the broken glass.