My skin is stretched, itchy and feverish, pulled tight from the energy trying to escape from inside my body.
The frustration and agitation makes me want to hurl heavy objects against walls, to feel the satisfying crunch of broken glass underfoot and to crush my surroundings into splinters until I’m breathless and weak.
Dropping the weight of anger at my feet I survey the beautiful destruction. My chest heaving, gasping for oxygen.
Grasping for direction.
I begin to sprint as fast as I can until I taste the blood in the back of my throat. Metallic and bitter.
You can never out run it though. It will always be there to greet you with open arms.