Halfway

c r a Z Y

"You're crazy!"
"I know!"

★ Talk to me-follow my train of thought if you can ★

Tuesday, September 6, 2011 ( 8:03 PM )

Look, you can't just say that to me, and expect a unicorn to sprinkle fairy dust over us and get my mouth moving. I can't define anything like that. It's not usual a single situation that snaps the tension. It takes anger, it takes fear and confusion which I am ever so prone towards, rejection, fear, fear, fear.

I hate that. I hate shitty fucked up arseholes who don't know how to keep their mouths shut.
I hate having to dread going to class, but I'm not scared anymore.
Fuck this shit.

I'm angry. Festering, mouldy hate that saturates the room when your sour, rotting face appears in the room. It's time, that time of the year, when someone gest hurt. How many more chances do I have left? How come it hasn't happened yet? When bruises and blood and broken bones have erupted from my red clammy hands 10 years straight.
I'm angry. I took of my heavy shoe and slammed it into the door leaving a dirty scuff mark, that oozed down the wall like dark silt. If they weren't so bloody tall I'd have slapped them both by now, but I guess it helps that my head height isn't the same as theirs, so I wouldn;t have to look at that shit face one minute longer. Keep your mouth shut bitch.

I can't take out my anger at gym, because I'm sick, because I'm not allowed to do anything. I don't have a punching bag, that'd probably be a good investment. There's only one place I can take my anger out.

And then it goes. And as much as I swell with discontent I sink, and it becomes instead, what was it for? Why did I feel like I wanted to kill someone? She didn't even mean it, I mean, bitch is just her natural personality. And the power I gained from that hate can be turned on myself. An eye for an eye, but I have control over myself more so than I can kill her. (Actually it's more like them. Two tall twin terrible tackless BITCHES.) More that I can crush her bones and scrape her voice into a vault of explosives shaped like bubblegum, and carve an ice sculpture of her face and smash it against a wall or throwing her over a cliff, or beating her face in and pointing a laser in her eye and listening to her scream as her corneas burn.

Where do these thoughts come from? I have no idea. But they fly about, wailing like banshees, in my head when I'm angry. People say they are blinded by rage, but in fact I am deafened and strengthened from within.

I'm angry. But I'm also sad. Deeply saddened by everyting I've read and seen and watched and heard and been and lived and crushed.

But above all, I'm happy. My God, happy is an utterly useless word. I'm not 'happy'. Not quite there. But I can almost believe my cover-up. Those days when I speak nothing, that's when I compose myself. You can tell how I feel by listening to my laugh. Manic, depressive, different. Anger ridden, desperate, or am I hiding something? My laugh. Now how can I have a depressive laugh you say? It's not the laugh itself, it's the tone of the laugh. If I'm hollow, it sounds rusty, tastes like salt and burns my throat. If you know, how to make me laugh it should sound like playground bark, it should cup circular around your palms and embrace it's joy down and around. But that selsom happens anymore. Of course, there's the mocking laugh, dirty jokes, anger and bitching.

I'm not angry now.
In fact, I now feel rather jovial.

Shit, shit, shit, what is happening to me? Why can't I keep to one emotion at a time?!
A question in that personality test, was, "do people have trouble following your train of thought?" and when I asked the people near me, they all, without hesitation answered yes, rather vibrantly so. Well I can't help it can I?

I think I have synesthesia. That's when smell and taste and colours and sound get mixed together because one is another and another is one. I'll elaborate later.
Where am I going? I thought I was supposed to angry before?!

I'm all over the place aren't I?