2009-09-03 - 12:23 a.m.
Jack's Sick Violent Thoughts
Continued...
Then the call ended.
That was it.
I stood in the kitchen. Holding my raging head.
Crying like a bitch.
If my medication is the same as it always is, then why the fuck do I feel like this?
I don't care what the fuck you say or think. Something is not right.
I wanted to start something.
You would not be able to ignore me then.
Do not fuck with me.
Of all people, you should have a special understanding of what happens to someone's brain chemistry when they suddenly go off their medication.
Or for some fucked up reason, it just stops working.
Interestingly enough, from what I understand Paxil works very similar to Cocaine.
It is one of the most highly addictive medications.
You should take me a little more seriously.
It took all of my willpower and the little bit of medication left in my system not to completely snap.
The only thing that really stopped me was the fear of losing control.
I can not describe the violence the raged inside me.
The anger that was trying to both possess me and tear out my heart with its teeth.
It felt like my chest was going to split and rip apart.
And if what was so desperately trying to escape got out, there was no way I could have regained control of it.
I understand now why they call it blacking out.
I could see black.
I could feel black.
I was full of black.
I wanted to scream until my throat bled. But there was no sound I was capable of terrible enough to express this.
Before I hurt myself, I closed my eyes.
Tried to forget everything that was happening around and inside me.
Before I lost control and tore the house up. Destroyed everything.
Before I lost control and attacked myself. With my pocket knife. With my teeth.
For some reason I wanted to maul my own arm like a vicious dog. I imagined calling the police and telling them to arrest me before I could. Or calling them after I had and showing them what I had done. Like a kid showing you what they did in school today.
In a sick way, it would have been funny.
Then I would somehow find my composure and calmly tell them what was wrong.
I am Jack's Sick Violent Thoughts.
But they were only thoughts.
As terrible as they were. They never happened.
I feel a litle uncomfortable writing them now.
Ashamed.
And disturbed.
Imagine how I would feel if I had let them happen.
If there had been some lapse in control.
Strangely I did not take my "medication" last night and I feel better today.
Jack Would Inhale You Until His World Became Tinted Sickly Green - 2009-10-07
Jack's Life Feels So Acted Out - 2009-09-28
Jack Remembers; The Smell Of Pumpkin Spice - 2009-09-04
Jack Tortures Another Entry Out Of Himself - 2009-09-04
