I had nothing to be angry at so I was angry at myself. No one caused this, so it must have been an intrinsic problem. Even so, I didn't know I could scream so loudly. I was good at being loud, but how many decibels was I forcing out of my larynx? My head bowed into the steering wheel and my car shook, either because I had lost sight of the road or because the increased pressure in between my ears had caused the entire world to lose its steadiness.
I scared myself. Even with the radio playing at maximum value I could hear my voice. I scream in a steady A, if I had to guess. You could tune to it. I guarantee. And it was not like anything I had ever heard before. I hate screaming. I have PTSD when it comes to screaming. I see Han Solo tied up on Cloud City when it comes to screaming. I want to run and never stop running when it comes to screaming. I am loud so I know that no one else will out yell me. I don't want to be as loud as I am, but I do not want anyone to think that they will ever be able to out yell me. They won't. As I see it, the louder person always wins. I don't want to lose again.
And I don't think I ever will. I scared myself with the way my voice stretched itself out, longer than I thought possible, past the point of forced expiratory volume almost. I stopped for a few moments, and then screamed again. Am I pretty? Even if I am not, no one should be able to make such a noise. If such a thing can hide within me, within the small space connecting my lungs and my mouth, than what even more evil things can hide in the dark? In between an all consuming fog? In a friend's otherwise pleasant face?
So I cried. For a scant thirty seconds, but the tears wouldn't evaporate. Even after I had made it off the highway, still they just lingered. I found such an affront insulting, confusing. To feel any emotion besides happiness is wrong. This should not happen to me. But to feel anger and sadness so intense at the same time? That is not right. What would this feeling even be?
To hate oneself so much as to want to end everything--how can a hate be any more involved than that? I hated that I had let myself live in this world where I am constantly trying to make myself into an image that is not naturally me. I have been overly socialized to want to be things I literally can never be. And I hate myself for that. So much so that the only way out seems to end everything. But then I become sad, knowing that no, I will never be able to kill myself, and no, I will never again be capable of suicide. Even the thought of consciously ending my life seemed like a great insult against so many things. What a sham for me to have that option--to live or die--when people I loved had been denied such a thing. People I had loved.
People who deserved love and life far more than me.
People I had loved.
How can I ever stop screaming? I cannot.
And what an idiot was I to think that I could control anything in my life? I can't. Everything that I hate, everything that I want to change, regardless of whether or not they are my fault or arise from external factors, no matter what they are, they will never change. There will always be something to make me unhappy. There will always be the unfairness of it all. And it will never end. And I will never know what to do about it. It will never end. It will never end.
I do not know what is wrong with me, truly wrong. I am depressed, clinically so. But on days like today, when I reach lows that I think shouldn't happen anymore since I've been "treated," my first thought is that somehow it is all my fault. My second thought is that I should hurt myself. But besides losing my voice and scaring myself to death, it is hard for me to find other ways to display hatred for myself. That's the only nice part of being sad I suppose.... it spares you from doing really anything, ever, at all. Tomorrow will always have to come. Not because I want it, but because I can't do anything to stop it.
Every night, when I lay down in darkness, I just only think that tomorrow might be better. And on nights like this, statistically, tomorrow has to be better. That is a comfort. It is the only comfort I get, but usually, it's the only comfort I need.
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