A grain of sand can set me off. The imagined tone in your letter sends me into frenzy. Everyone is counting down to my next appointment. I don’t even want to go. I’ve become that girl. The one who’s so sensitive; can’t handle what life throws her way. I will not submit to this. I will not allow the tears to drop. I will not throw punches and chairs. I want to beat a human being to a bloody pulp. Set the world on fire. If I do that, will it make me feel better? “Evil is a point of view,” who else has my vantage point? I can talk about it endlessly. You think I should talk to the wrong person. Reveal ugly truths that I can barely admit to myself, in silence. If I disclose the tip to you, the mountain will come crashing down. It will end it all. I won’t be able to face you. You’ve seen me at my lowest. I’m embarrassed. After the hurricane, when the clouds part and I can see clearly, I’m afraid to face you. You ask me why I’m defeated. Life is defeating me; it’s kicking me for no reason. I am a rebel without a cause. Anger suggests arrogance. I’m the most arrogant asshole there is. I have two moods: angry and emotionally disturbed. I used to be funny. I try to listen, breathe, and calm down. I drink what you say to me; cling to it like a life raft. Nothing seems to help.
I blast music, try to get lost in the rhythm. I’ve memorized the lyrics to “feeling good.” I’ve tattooed it on my arm. “Nothing takes the past away, like the future. Nothing makes the darkness go like the light.” Sometimes I feel like a ghost. Like I don’t exist or matter. There is no separation for me. Go big or fuck the world. I need a hobby. Something to distract me. I fucking hate people. I used to be so pleasant. Downward spiral. Again. Always. This is getting so boring and tiresome. Soon there won’t be anyone left. And if I confessed? Then what? I’m so good at pushing everyone away.
Pressure coming from the inside of my head. Full of oozing puss. Black bile that leaks into every part of me. I’m coated in it; suffocating and unable to break free. I feed this monster inside and watch it grow. I revel in its repulsion. It’s like I have something and nothing to prove all at once. Beats bang around me and I’m lost in the music. I’m supposed to be the architect of my own happiness. I’ve lost my degree and my tools. Suddenly it’s not so simple anymore. Doesn’t seem worth the effort.
Sometimes, at night, when the world is a million miles away, I pray for the courage to breakdown. Cry until I have no liquids left in my body. Unleash. Purge. Cleanse. Other times, I wonder what would happen if I acted out what’s in my head. What kind of trouble can I get myself into?
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