I am angry.

It’s been weeks now–weeks of this looming sense of manic rage.

I want to punch walls.  I want to break bottles.  I want to tear my own flesh off of my own body piece by piece.

I wouldn’t dare lose the remaining iota of control that I have by giving in, but I’ve been setting tiny fires with my words.  It doesn’t make the intrusive thoughts go away, but if nothing else, it’s damage control.

Continue reading I am angry.

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Don’t Break Me.

Here’s the thing.  I know, more intimately than I’ve ever known before or ever wanted to know, that there is only so much a person can take before the next thing breaks them–it doesn’t have to be a volcanic eruption; it could be the proverbial straw. Continue reading Don’t Break Me.