Other than that, I really hate how I'm so graceless under pressure. When I'm really pissed off, I lose the ability to speak. I stammer, I make guttural noises, but I know that it is a bad idea to talk.
If the instigator is in front of my face [as opposed to up a flight of stairs, or on the telephone] ... then it gets really ugly.
I hate having such a short temper.. and no one really sees it. Unless you know me well, you'd probably think I have no temper at all.
I've held knives/scissors to peoples' throats.
I've tried to smother people.
I've ripped clothing.
I've pushed someone out a window.
I've pulled hair.
I've grabbed the wheels of others' cars while in motion and swerved.
I've thrown bricks and scissors.
I've kicked a boy in the nuts.
I've pushed someone down the stairs.
I haven't yet run over anyone, but I'm sure that's down the road.
It's not a wonder I get the shakes when I get pissed off and can't do anything about it. I can't help it. When I am provoked, I love to hurt people. It's the only way I can calm my racing pulse and untie the knots in my stomach.
True, I've done all these things. For the most part, I am even-tempered and non-violent. For the most part. However, when I become angry... something sick and primal takes over, and there is screaming, harsh words, and sometimes it comes to blows.
The sight of blood makes me crazy.
I chased Mya for blocks... she'd done nothing wrong. The only thing she'd done is run.
"Hold my HAND!!" I screamed at her.
"Nooooooo!!" she screamed back over her shoulder.
I had to chase her, there was no question. I chased her all the way down to Mike's house and watched her beat on Mike's door, screaming. Mike's step-mom opened the door, looking alarmed, clutching her tiny dog in the crick of her arm. Mya barrelled past her, and I followed shortly, making horrible ungodly noises punctuated by laughter.
His parents never looked at us the same way again.
I saw stuff that I wanted. I don't know. Things are crazy. I've been angry lately and no one has been around to push out the window, and there's only so much screaming one can do. My mom calls us the loud family because we always are screaming at each other.
I've got a set of pipes like you wouldn't believe. When I drive through the purple heart trail between like... Emeryville and Berkeley, there's an overpass that echoes. I always scream out my window to take full advantage of it.
I am not angry anymore.
Looks like that was just what I needed. Nothing like 5.5 hours of Super Nintendo for someone who has absolutely no hand-eye coordination to get you all riled up. My cage had been severely rattled [there were relatives here also] but I am ok now.
Put these two words in a sentence together: stacked and fire.