I want to hit something.
No, someone.
I want to feel flesh.
I want to give him the pain that I have to deal with every day.
I want to slap his pouting cheek every time he tries to blame the world.
When he says we don’t love him.
Then turns and says he hates us.
I want to see the bright red print made by my hand on his face.
I want to scream.
To scream as loud as I can.
As long as I can.
Not only that, but I want to scream into his selfish face.
I want him to know what yelling sounds like.
I want to run, as far as I can.
To feel everything fading away behind me.
To get so far that when I look back over my shoulder I see nothing but emptiness.
Nothing but tiny little dots where my life used to be.
I want to escape.
I want to lock myself into a room that cannot be opened.
A room where I can hide.
Where memories are the only remnants.
I want to disappear.
I want to block out all sounds.
So that when he screams I hear only my own thoughts.
So that his mouth held open like a giant cave is the only proof that noise escapes his lips.
I want his silence.
I want to go back in time to when there was no cruelty.
To when he didn’t do all in his power to hurt anyone and everyone around.
When he was kind.
I want to feel safe from being hurt by him.
I want to get rid of all this anger.
I want to remember what it’s like to love him.
