Sizzling silence

This is hard to do,so bear with me.Bear with me because I am so fucking angry I could actually explode right here,right now into tiny bits of bitter nothingness.Why am I the way I am?God,God,God...

Touch me with the tip of your finger and I'll go for your throat like a mountain lion...metaphorically.
Everything is very frustrating.From doors that are being slammed all around me to the masks I change in order to please everybody.Since when did I actually agree to kill myself with kindness?

The small islands of peace and tranquility I find in each day stand no chance in front of the catastrophic typhoon that lies even in the smallest of gestures.

I'm angry for no particular reason and that makes me angry at my own anger.Why does my body swell with violence each time something doesn't agree with me?Are all my years of discipline fancy ashes when faced with a raw,beastly urge to see blood?Is my egocentricity getting out of hand?

Maybe I'm having a bad week.Out of a crappy month.Out of a pointless existence.

I really,really,really want to punch a wall right now,but I need my hand to write my inner turmoil instead of materializing it.

I don't thing my going to college is going to make any difference at all.I don't think the love I give is equal to the love I receive.I don't think my life has a meaning and this scares me sometimes.Yet something else is troubling me,some eluding shadow that won't reveal its face or name.

Meanwhile,I could pick a fight with a bull and not mind it.The worst part is that I have to keep this "unidentified" monster in a calm cage,all bottled up and ready to show its claws.

I'm not home,where I could cry without feeling judged or pitied,where I could find the kind words I so badly need,where the world seems safer and smaller.No.

I'm in an improvised "home",drowning in books and in shadowed sentiments.Though I know my Paradise is flawed,I'd rather be there than here.And I'm still fucking angry!

It's tiresome,to be honest.So much mental swearing and two fists constantly clenched-this isn't me.Or,at least,I hope this hasn't become me.If only oblivion came somehow...

I can't go back to thinking all those awful thoughts about myself and others because it wouldn't be fair.Or healthy.Or sane.I never knew inner violence could physically hurt...

Morbid scenarios are creeping before my eyes,so I'd better find relief inside a bed before I seek it in darker projections.

I pray for peace and purpose.