My fist pounded into your back a second time. I know, we're not children who are 4 and 6. We're 16 and 18. But sometimes physical action needs to be taken...Because how dare you.
How dare you degrade me and insult and become the source of my anxiety for the rest of the day and walk away with your back turned to me. I want you to fear me. I want everyone to.
But that's not how it works. You turn around swiftly and I shield myself. You deliver a punch to my back and kick. You grab me by my hair. I thrash angrily but you don't care. You walk away with your back turned. Fuck you.
Next time you make me angry I hold a knife up to your neck. You just look at me as I scream and ask you what you want me to do.
"Calm down, you psychopath." You spat.
Psychopath. Now, that's actually a lot better than "lazy", "stupid", "piece of crap" or "idiot", I suppose.
The next time I get really angry. Really angry. I run and pull out a knife. And I've learned that if I get angry enough, scream enough, you hear me. Because you understand that the threat is dangerously real. And that give me some kind of rush. Adrenine. Endorphins being released... because for once I see the fear in someone's eyes. Your eyes.
And I just grin as you let me walk out of the room with my back turned.
xxx
Jan. 10. 2015// 3:35AM
YOU ARE READING
For All I Can Remember...
Non-FictionBasically this is going to be a daily journal on days it's important and also poems and stories about my life. I don't know, you might like it. It's for me to keep record but feel free to read!
