Monday, July 6, 2015

Eff the fourth, the fifth, the sixth, and why not the seventh, too?

And sometimes a word or a line of a conversations sets your teeth on edge... just right... and although you are forty-one years old and have never been in an actual fight, but have been hit, pushed, and choked many times, you suddenly have this urge boiling up from a place you didn't even know existed.  You want to grab some random person and ball your small hands into fists and beat the person before you until they can no longer stand.  And then you want to climb on top of their tears and blood and pleas, and keep hitting them as hard as you can.  Close one eye.  Close both.  When they talk back, you want to fill their mouth with your knuckles and tell them to Shut up!  Just shut up!

When they've quieted at last, you will sit on top of their pain, sick with victory.  It doesn't make it right.  It doesn't take it back.  But my, just this once, doesn't it feel good?

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