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I can feel it coming. It's working its way into me like the smooth edges of a slowly rotating drillbit. The adrenalin bites, fingers and limbs shake gently in unison. Darkness clouds my mind, and violence fills my thoughts.
Why am I so easily turned to this dark path? Why do I crave the opportunity to inflict pain at the merest provocation? Why the goddamn hell can't people just be reasonable in the first place?
I'm losing control. Some say I'm running from the issue. But the truth is, if I face the issue head on right now, I'm going to take it in both hands and snap it in two.
Oh, I'm human enough that I'd wake up in the morning and regret it, but when the red mist falls, and my fists ball up so tight that my knuckles threaten to burst through my skin, consequences are the least of my concerns.
Yet for all this, here I am. Typing meaninglessly into this window waiting for the adrenalin to fade, and the fury to subside. I have more self-control than I thought I'd ever want to muster. But my efforts are not appreciated.
My disinclination to physically manifest my frustrations into a world of pain is only so much vanity. Go figure.
Why am I so easily turned to this dark path? Why do I crave the opportunity to inflict pain at the merest provocation? Why the goddamn hell can't people just be reasonable in the first place?
I'm losing control. Some say I'm running from the issue. But the truth is, if I face the issue head on right now, I'm going to take it in both hands and snap it in two.
Oh, I'm human enough that I'd wake up in the morning and regret it, but when the red mist falls, and my fists ball up so tight that my knuckles threaten to burst through my skin, consequences are the least of my concerns.
Yet for all this, here I am. Typing meaninglessly into this window waiting for the adrenalin to fade, and the fury to subside. I have more self-control than I thought I'd ever want to muster. But my efforts are not appreciated.
My disinclination to physically manifest my frustrations into a world of pain is only so much vanity. Go figure.
... anyone else think we could do with a seperate "emo scribblings" board? ;)
if it makes you feel better though, EVRYONE gets those days. the difference is that in a few years time you`ll have much better reasons for them.
if it makes you feel better though, EVRYONE gets those days. the difference is that in a few years time you`ll have much better reasons for them.
Yeah I feel like that sometimes too, you put it into much better words than I ever could though.
I can feel it coming. It's working its way into me like the smooth edges of a slowly rotating drillbit. The adrenalin bites, fingers and limbs shake gently in unison. Darkness clouds my mind, and violence fills my thoughts.
Why am I so easily turned to this dark path? Why do I crave the opportunity to inflict pain at the merest provocation? Why the goddamn hell can't people just be reasonable in the first place?
I'm losing control. Some say I'm running from the issue. But the truth is, if I face the issue head on right now, I'm going to take it in both hands and snap it in two.
Oh, I'm human enough that I'd wake up in the morning and regret it, but when the red mist falls, and my fists ball up so tight that my knuckles threaten to burst through my skin, consequences are the least of my concerns.
Yet for all this, here I am. Typing meaninglessly into this window waiting for the adrenalin to fade, and the fury to subside. I have more self-control than I thought I'd ever want to muster. But my efforts are not appreciated.
My disinclination to physically manifest my frustrations into a world of pain is only so much vanity. Go figure.
Why am I so easily turned to this dark path? Why do I crave the opportunity to inflict pain at the merest provocation? Why the goddamn hell can't people just be reasonable in the first place?
I'm losing control. Some say I'm running from the issue. But the truth is, if I face the issue head on right now, I'm going to take it in both hands and snap it in two.
Oh, I'm human enough that I'd wake up in the morning and regret it, but when the red mist falls, and my fists ball up so tight that my knuckles threaten to burst through my skin, consequences are the least of my concerns.
Yet for all this, here I am. Typing meaninglessly into this window waiting for the adrenalin to fade, and the fury to subside. I have more self-control than I thought I'd ever want to muster. But my efforts are not appreciated.
My disinclination to physically manifest my frustrations into a world of pain is only so much vanity. Go figure.