Anger courses through my veins, and I am ready to kill. I am ready to become a monster.
Would I die for her?
I would much rather kill her with my own hands; watch her die with my own eyes.
I wouldn’t feel remorse.
I wouldn’t feel human.
In that moment, I would be so happy. So very happy.
I would make her physically feel all the emotional shit she puts me through every time I hear her voice.
I would hurt her, and hurt her, and hurt her till she cried and asked me to stop.
But I wouldn’t.
I would crave her pain, and the more she called out the more elated I would feel.
I would be crazy and demented and everything I’m not right now.
And I wouldn’t even care.
I would be a monster.
And I would be free.