When I say I wish I died at a young age.... I mean it.
My anger has gotten to the point where I'm actively destroying things in my house now. Yesterday I picked up a lawn chair and just slammed it as hard as I could into a thousand pieces in the yard. Then I grabbed a stuffed llama that's sitting on our porch for god knows what reason, I twisted its head off and football kicked it into a small field across the street from our house. I yanked up some very nice snapdragon flowers that were growing in our yard and just stomped on them until they were embedded in the dirt. There's also now a dying tree because I snarled one of its branches in half.
It doesn't stop there. After the many, many, MANY pointless housewide fights we've had, the downstairs ceiling now has an open cavity in the drywall, whose fragments are still hanging loose. There is a blanket taped to the wall covering a hole that Maddog's shoulder created when he once laughed at me and sent me into a livid rage that caused me to charge into him hard enough to send him rolling backward across to the other side of the foyer (keep in mind this is a man who weighs upwards of 375 pounds we are speaking of, and i'm very easily 200 lbs short of that; I was THAT mortally pissed off at him.) A few wooden supporters on the rails of the stairs are gone because i torn one off to swing it at Maddog, and he took one off himself to do the same with.
Now that i've told you the majority of it, I now urge you to brace yourself for the worst of my anger, which occured on Mother's Day the day before, at night, after everything wound down and she was excited for her gift:
After another fight against Maddog... I said to my mother that I hated her and every way she operates, that I hated the fact she never does anything about me being teased constantly, and that I probably would have fared better in life if she had given birth to me with a defect that would have left me in a coma when I would become a teenager so she wouldn't have to put up with me, and then I told her if there WAS a way to legally, willingly put myself into a coma, I would have done so at the first heartbeat because then, not only would nobody ever have to put up with my anger, but I myself would never have to deal with any of their crap ever again, I would never have to be teased, I would never have to be punished, and I would be so much better off with my life if I was either that or if I had just been stillborn.
I did not think I could be so angry in life. I did not ever think my anger would get to such an infinitely high point. I never knew that there was even a number that high of my level of anger which could be measured by current science that existed.
Do you want to know what the absolute worst part of this is?
I've made promises to my mother about managing my anger that i've never kept, I've gone back on every one of them. I've gone back and forth to the behavioral hospital so many times, and come back thinking that I've finally successfully changed, only to have somebody send me sprialing downward again, and see myself punching, kicking, grabbing and throwing everything within arm's reach that I could find, leaving a dangerous mess in my wake. Yesterday was so bad that I know have a case of trigger finger that I've put a makeshift splint over, and I am hoping to almighty god it doesn't have to be amputated!! Look at me! I'm so bad off that i'm hurting my body in the thick of it all, and i don't even know it until I look at it later!
It just... Everything I do just feels pointless now. What's the point in doing anything to make myself better if I never actually change afterward? What's the point in trying to breathe through everything if I'm just going to go back to my old ways again later? Where is the blur of the line?!
I've run out of options, and I'm out of ideas...
This....is... Just who I am now, I guess...
I guess now, I just have no choice but to live with the guilt until it makes me so depressed that I can't live with myself anymore... But I look forward to that day now, because then even though I will have killed myself, though my spirit will be in Hell, at least my physical body will suffer no longer.
So... From now on.... Don't worry about me anymore. I'm a lost cause. And that's all I'm ever going to be.
I'm sorry you all wasted your time trying to help me.
Just now that my suffering will end soon, when I work up the final courage to go out on my own terms.
I love you all.
My anger has gotten to the point where I'm actively destroying things in my house now. Yesterday I picked up a lawn chair and just slammed it as hard as I could into a thousand pieces in the yard. Then I grabbed a stuffed llama that's sitting on our porch for god knows what reason, I twisted its head off and football kicked it into a small field across the street from our house. I yanked up some very nice snapdragon flowers that were growing in our yard and just stomped on them until they were embedded in the dirt. There's also now a dying tree because I snarled one of its branches in half.
It doesn't stop there. After the many, many, MANY pointless housewide fights we've had, the downstairs ceiling now has an open cavity in the drywall, whose fragments are still hanging loose. There is a blanket taped to the wall covering a hole that Maddog's shoulder created when he once laughed at me and sent me into a livid rage that caused me to charge into him hard enough to send him rolling backward across to the other side of the foyer (keep in mind this is a man who weighs upwards of 375 pounds we are speaking of, and i'm very easily 200 lbs short of that; I was THAT mortally pissed off at him.) A few wooden supporters on the rails of the stairs are gone because i torn one off to swing it at Maddog, and he took one off himself to do the same with.
Now that i've told you the majority of it, I now urge you to brace yourself for the worst of my anger, which occured on Mother's Day the day before, at night, after everything wound down and she was excited for her gift:
After another fight against Maddog... I said to my mother that I hated her and every way she operates, that I hated the fact she never does anything about me being teased constantly, and that I probably would have fared better in life if she had given birth to me with a defect that would have left me in a coma when I would become a teenager so she wouldn't have to put up with me, and then I told her if there WAS a way to legally, willingly put myself into a coma, I would have done so at the first heartbeat because then, not only would nobody ever have to put up with my anger, but I myself would never have to deal with any of their crap ever again, I would never have to be teased, I would never have to be punished, and I would be so much better off with my life if I was either that or if I had just been stillborn.
I did not think I could be so angry in life. I did not ever think my anger would get to such an infinitely high point. I never knew that there was even a number that high of my level of anger which could be measured by current science that existed.
Do you want to know what the absolute worst part of this is?
I've made promises to my mother about managing my anger that i've never kept, I've gone back on every one of them. I've gone back and forth to the behavioral hospital so many times, and come back thinking that I've finally successfully changed, only to have somebody send me sprialing downward again, and see myself punching, kicking, grabbing and throwing everything within arm's reach that I could find, leaving a dangerous mess in my wake. Yesterday was so bad that I know have a case of trigger finger that I've put a makeshift splint over, and I am hoping to almighty god it doesn't have to be amputated!! Look at me! I'm so bad off that i'm hurting my body in the thick of it all, and i don't even know it until I look at it later!
It just... Everything I do just feels pointless now. What's the point in doing anything to make myself better if I never actually change afterward? What's the point in trying to breathe through everything if I'm just going to go back to my old ways again later? Where is the blur of the line?!
I've run out of options, and I'm out of ideas...
This....is... Just who I am now, I guess...
I guess now, I just have no choice but to live with the guilt until it makes me so depressed that I can't live with myself anymore... But I look forward to that day now, because then even though I will have killed myself, though my spirit will be in Hell, at least my physical body will suffer no longer.
So... From now on.... Don't worry about me anymore. I'm a lost cause. And that's all I'm ever going to be.
I'm sorry you all wasted your time trying to help me.
Just now that my suffering will end soon, when I work up the final courage to go out on my own terms.
I love you all.
