Throwback: Pits of Despair, Flames of Fury, Keep Your Condescension

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Panic and fear.

Too many things. Floating along, lost, unguided.

Feeling as though nobody else speaks my language.

Feeling as though perhaps I do not speak their language.

How can such stupidity make sense to everyone else? Did we not grow up speaking the same language?

How are people so willing to be content with ignorance? What stops them from discovering the whole truth before making accusations?

How do those accusations make sense?

I am not calm. Why did she say I was? I have not changed. Why did she think I have.

And if I have changed - is that a good thing? Among snakes like those, isn't it right to be angry, to be flame, to burn everything?

No, telling me I am calm doesn't please me. I must be fury. I must be fire. I must destroy everything before it has the chance to destroy me.

Panic and fear. Too many decisions.

Fear. Fear. Fear. FEAR.

I cannot survive. I cannot live. I wish for death. I wish I was dead.

I wish everyone was.

- Written June 2, 2017
Context Unknown 

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