Slipping

No, I fought so hard to get out of my tempers, fought so hard to release myself from my own anger.

I’d rather be known for being a sad shut in than a violent force... Even if the latter gives me a sense of control.

Everything controls me when something like a dog bark or an opened door make me steam.

I can’t keep a hold of anything if I can’t even keep a hold of me.

I take such pleasure in anger, a pleasure in adrenaline, for the lack of other emotions I could be enjoying.

People don’t pay attention to my woes, people leave me in the shadows, I hardly get even a whisper of “I care.” and when I do it’s from the only other twisted f**k who stayed...

I wanna kill the dog, I want to jam the door shut, I have horrible thoughts of what I’ll do to the only one I trust.

I tried so hard, and for a while I won, but as time goes on I see myself slipping back down into a darkness.

A darkness that never really faded, I just got really good at hiding it up.

But it’s growing black again, and this time I don’t have the luxury of time or pity from the people of this world, time for me to cool off.

I don’t want to do it, but who knows when I could snap...I’ve come to learn my good behavior is out of fear of punishment instead of self and others respect.

I don’t care about your feelings, I don’t care if I bruise your skin, I only care if you’ll tattle, because then I’ll lose my ability to harm you all over again.