I want to scream

I want to scream.

I want to throw my head back and scream.

I want to throw my head back, stick my arms out the the side and scream.

With my fists clenched so hard that I break the skin and blood drips from my palms.

I want to scream. 

Not like a prissy girl who just saw a mouse scream.

I want it to come from deep in my gut.

I want it to slowly roll up my throat, gaining momentum as it gets closer to breaking the surface.

I want it to bring forth all the anger, the disappointment, the burning rage that I feel inside.

I want to scream.

I crave the release, of what it must feel like to be free of these unwanted emotions.

To close your eyes and be able to relax.

To not want to ram your car into another.

To not want to lay down on train tracks and wait for your head to be chopped off.

To not want to go into the city, buy a gun from a street corner, put it in your mouth, and pull the trigger.

I want to scream.