Friday 10 July 2015

Rage, pain

When the screams make it out of my body. The screams that are always there, more or less loud inside me. When they break out, claw their way from my chest, through my throat, out of my mouth.

When I lose control.

When I drown in a stormy sea of pain and rage and the dark, salt water blinds me.

When bottomless sadness takes over, a darkness so thick and sticky that I can't breath. Self hatred and self loathing and self pity.

Imploding, exploding. At the same time. The pressure builds and builds until I'm completely obliterated. Until I scream. Until I can only scream. Until I can't not scream. Until the screams are all that's left of me.

I try to scream into a pillow, I remember all those times when I was a teenager and the police came when I had my episodes. I remember the bat that I kept in my room for beating on the bed with because I had broken so much stuff that I liked. I feel scared that the police are going to come again, that we'll lose our new apartment. But the fear doesn't make the screams go away. The blind hysteria. I scream into the pillow and try to stop, I try to get up, control myself. But I can't. I'm crying too much. I try to make sense of the situation in my head, I try to calm myself down. But the chaos grows. It grows and grows and grows and I have no way out and then suddenly there's something to hold on to.

There's something to focus on. The crying becomes normal crying. The screams leave me. I lie down and finally I can relax.

I focus on him.

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