Sometimes when you're short of your outlets to release anger which is border lining on madness, you need to do something with as much force as you can and that's what I did. Punching a wall was not as painful but the storm of thoughts pinching the inside of my brain definitely was and it didn't calm down. So I punched it again. And again. And again. Until I couldn't lift it anymore and still the feelings didn't seem to be directed towards the wall at all, they were all still inside of me, infecting my soul and spreading cancerous illusions.
No matter how many times I tried to hurt my physical form in order to stop my soul from thrashing back and forth in agony, it didn't seem to work, leading to not a calmer self but a more passive aggressive one. I wanted to shatter all the glass I could find and then scream on the top of my voice while running around all over it. I wanted to plunge a knife into myself and then just cry while the blood rushed out and I waited to die, contemplating every mistake, every regret, every painful memory.
It hurt more than it should have and it continues to throb, sometimes decreasing to a dull background ache and sometimes becoming the 24/7 axe that's landing on my head and when not, still swinging above it in anticipation.
There has to be some physical or spiritual way to cure it but I seem to not want to find it. I want to hurt and that's all I want to do, as if it means atoning for all the times I've hurt people I loved although it doesn't make sense because if someone loves you, they'd kill themselves to save you from the pain. And I am in fact, slowly killing myself but it never shows. It's as subtle as a quiet brain tumor which only shows up in the last moments of one's life. Just before the words "I'm sorry".
