SM own all, I own nothing
All I remember is the anger. The deep red boiling flame that melted its way through my veins, shredding any form of defence I had built within an instant, until it reaches its crescendo in my heart, casting a shadow so deep and thick across it that I'm not even sure it's my own heart anymore.
I had never felt such anger, such emotion, such passion, well ever before. That rush, the excitement, the dread and of course the reason, knowing what would happen next wouldn't make things any easier, only worse, but I was ready for that. Ready to make that jump now, right into the sea of the unknown, too long I had spent on the sidelines wondering what it would be like, this time I was I going to push myself out, I was going to jump.
We are often told that our true side is show when in need; I prefer to say we know who we are through fire and flame. I had known fire and flame, in one instance I had know exactly who I was. What I was capable of, of what lengths I would go to, and what did I find… only disgust. I knew who I was, and I was proud of it, but I wish I wasn't.
If the eyes are the windows the soul then mine would have been blocked, that cold and icy shadow had wormed it way through my very essence and had taken with it me. Or what was me, what am I now I'm not sure, I'm still me but now I know who I am. I'm not a fighter, I have no desire for death, no push for power or thrust for hurt, I was gentle and meek, and that is what disgusted me. The fire through my body was one of evil, and I wanted it, but my body rejected it, pushed it away, threw it out and with every breathe I took the cool flow of calm returned and I hated it. I wanted the anger, the passion, and the flame. I wanted it to burn and taint the very edges of my soul, to make me strong. I wanted this, wanted it so badly, but my soul didn't. My mind and soul fought for control and my mind had lost, at least for now.
When battling an addiction people refer to it as their demon, mine was much more literal than that, mine was a red devil called anger, it flowed through me as clearly and simply as breathing was to anyone, but this poison of mine was not one of choice, it had been locked and stowed with key and chain, and was more impenetrable than any castle or fort ever made. Why? I'm not sure. I wanted that anger, wanted to use it and to feel it, but I couldn't, it was there but simultaneously it wasn't, it was kept from me.
They say time heals all wounds, I'm not sure I have a wound, more of a scar. I've done my bleeding, now was my time for revenge, and like they say its best served cold. I'd wanted to strike, to jump, no I'd wanted to lunge. I wanted a primal rage of anger and emotion to strike but I couldn't. I'd get my revenge another way.
Reviews please xoxo