I'm scared of what lies deep inside me. As I approach it, I feel it try to get to the surface. It's pure rage and hate. It wants to destroy everything valuable to show just how much hurt and ferocity is inside me. Running is too safe a release. I just hurt myself. Tearing paper or cloth, just pacifies it a little. It wants to leave a smoking heap of rubble and walk away bloody and heaving, with people whispering shock.
At the same time, I'm a little afraid it will be proved impotent. Then I will know myself truly powerless.
Then again, the traumatized pleaser in me is embarassed to make such a scene and wants to hide it away. Getting that same disapproving and shocked look my parents gave me is crushing.
While it's crushing, it's also enraging because I wasn't able to break free. I know it wasn't my fault. My earliest development was marred. I was driven to outburst and condemned for having them, which proved the need for more severity in discipline.
So here I am caught in these loops and I want out. God, I want out!
