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Angy, bitter, and gruesome. But that's the cost of the truth.

Do you know what sucks?

When you’re in a situation where the only option is failing.  And you can’t do anything about it.  No matter what you do to stop it or push it back, it keeps coming at you with more and more force.  Where hef smiles at you, one that never reaches his eyes, taunts you.  “Come on,” he says.  “I’m right here.  I’m here to kill you and you can’t do anything about it.”  And anger flairs up like a nuke inside of you.  The flames reach your eyes and all you want to do is kill the person.  Stab a sword through its black cold heart and twist the blade around in his body until he’s wailing in pain, screaming in agony.  He’s laying there with a blade through his chest and he’s begging you.  “Please, please, stop it!” he screams.  “Stop!  Why must you torture me like this?  Why can’t you just stop and kill me!?  Please just kill me!”  And you don’t.  You smile an evil smile to match theirs, one that never reaches the eyes, one that never reaches any other part of the body except those thin lips.  And you keep twisting the blade.  “Please…” he whimpers softly.  Fear now possesses him eyes, agony controls his slowly dying heart.  And you laugh.  A cold, hard laugh that could have sent a fear so strong, that any regular man would die of fright, bury his head in the ground just to escape the coldness.  Rip his ears off of his body to not hear while blood streams down his crumbling body.  But that would only make you laugh harder.  See a man die, so murder them personally…it’s indescribably.  You see their last ounce of life escape with their dying breath, their eyes remaining open now, as all of the muscles have all but vanished.  Those unseeing eyes staring into nothing, seeing nothing.  That body.  Lying there with no purpose.  And you whisk the blade out from the corpse�"your corpse�"and you laugh some more.  And you realize that this is what you live for.  You don’t live to keep life.  You live to kill it.  To send fear down someone’s spine, to stick a knife through their body without caring and watch them scream.  Watch as the pain sweeps through their entire body bringing endless screams and you love every second of it.  You enjoy the pain, the fear, the begging, the tears.  And you’ll only stop the torture when they die.  That’s exactly what I wanted to do to it.  With these thoughts, more flames flared up.  Higher and brighter than the last.  You don’t just feel anger.  Anger feels you.  It controls you as if you’re a ragdoll.  And you can’t do anything about it you don’t want to do anything about it.  You walk up to it.  You vaguely notice his laughter as he sees the anger in your eyes and your fists.  Then you run.  You sprint as if your running to save your life instead of kill it.  To stop murder rather than commit suicide.  Your subconscious realizes it’s stupid.  But your anger doesn’t care.  And right as you get to it, right when you’re about to smash him with every ounce of your strength, right when you’re about to murder him with your bare hands, he punches you with so much strength, you go flying away.  You hit the ground, feeling the pain, but not caring.  You go back to him as he laughs at you more as he giggles in glee as he snickers in happiness.  And right when you’re about to murder him with your bare hands, right when you’re about to smash him with every ounce of your strength, he punches you and you fly away yet again.  And the cycle starts again.  And again.  And again and again and tears swell up in your eyes and drip down in anger and frustration.  Your anger builds more and more if you don’t kill him you’re going to die yourself from anger.  You’re going to drown in tears of frustration.  You cry and cry and you go after him again and again but you can’t do anything!  He remains where he is laughing until you want to scream so loud his eardrums burst from his ears until he dies in a wave of screams until his heart stops from shock and a fear that strips his very bones clean of everything.  You want to grab a knife and plunge it into his brain and keep cutting straight down his body until all he is is two pieces of s**t lying on the ground, his heart in two and dead.  And you want to keep cutting until all he is is a million pieces of s**t lying on the ground in front of you.  Where blood stains the green grass red and your hands will never be the same color again.  But each time you go after him he bats you away from him like your nothing but a pesky insect.  And eventually you get tired of it.  So sick that you do exactly what you want to do�"you scream.  A scream that causes birds to drop from trees, the sun to go black, the world to go cold, the people to cower in holes as all of their precious building collapse and scream that make the person closest to you almost die from the noise itself.  And you scream as loud as you can and as long as you can.  One where any life on any other universe could hear it.  And you run as fast as you can more tears pouring out of your eyes, your face turning a deep red and then purple.  But you don’t care.  You grab a sword and you go at you enemy and you stab him over and over and over again.  Blood is squirting out of his body he’s screaming in pain and you keep on stabbing him.  You grab his head and you squeeze it between both your hands until you hear this crack and then this squelch.  His head becomes thin and his eyes pop out of his head and he’s gasping for air, but with each breath, my legs begin squeezing around his body.  I release his head and I go to his neck.  And I squeeze that too.  I squeeze as hard as possible with my hands and legs until his own face is as deep purple as mine.  And you stop screaming.  And you watch your finished project.  But still, it’s not complete.  You reach for a leg and you put your foot on his chest and you pull.  You pull with the anger still absorbed in you and his leg comes away from his body.  And you do that to all four of his limbs until he’s five pieces of human trash on the ground next to you.  You step back, the anger finally dying out of you.  You stare in horror at what you have done but at the same time, you don’t feel remorse.  You smile a cold smile that never reaches your eyes and you walk away perfectly happy with yourself.  And you make a fire and burn everything that you had squeezed the life out of, the smell of burning flesh haunting you for eternity.  You leave the fire burning, even when the lifeless forms were done burning and you walk away.  To the horizon, into the sinking sun, into peace.  And, for the first time, you’re truly happy.