Rage tasted bitter, anger tasted sweet. My mind filled with the euphoric sense of passion. My mind raced, my heart thudded. Beat. Beat. Beatbeatbeat. It wouldn't stop .Breathing was refusing to assist my attempts to calm my hectic mind. I couldn't handle this.
School.
Life.
Family.
So called friends.
Maybe it was just me, or maybe it was my temper. I felt the urge to feel pain, and not my normal method of pain. I wanted to bruise. to feel bones crushing. The sickening cracks and hammering resonated throughout the room. The pain was quick but never had time to settle in properly. Thud. Thud. Thud. Flesh met plaster, blood stained the spot where I contacted with the barrier. My mind went crazy and adrenaline filled all of my senses, driving me to the point of insanity.
Hurt.
Anger.
All of my emotions broke through the concrete barrier I locked them behind. The hurt of the betrayal sank through, pouring into the block of concrete. The anger came bounding out in the form of broken skin and shredded knuckles. Angry at you. Angry at me. Angry at everyone that managed to exist. It must have been at least five minutes of solid impact before the placidity set in. Breathing heavily, I felt the pain rush back, and I doubled over in tears. My hand was a mess. Blood, ripped skin, and a swollen lump was where my fist had made contact with our wall. Deep down, a satisfaction rushed through my every vein. I was able to do that. I had the passion to destroy myself, which means I could have the passion to destroy others. My eyes lingered over my mangled hand before returning to the wall. No markage was eminent and I felt pleased.
Since no one was there to listen, at least the wall was there to take some of the pain. However unethical and uncouth it may be, what else is there?
I ran out of hope a long time ago, so maybe it's just better if I keep it between the plaster and I....
A/N: This story has the same theme and slightly familiar context as the first but it's a bit...deeper, emotionally.
