It had been a long time since I had lashed out in violent rage. Years, as far as I can remember. I had left violence and physical conflict escalation behind me with my youth.
Today, just a little while ago, I snapped.
I could bottle up no more, I was out of control with no desire to return to sanity. IT had given me all I could take. Years of to and fro, back and forth, frustration, rejection, all had slowly led to ITs own dehumanization. IT no longer bore any connection to humanity for me. IT was now just IT, nothing more than an inanimate pronoun, less than an idea. IT had certainly not resembled that which IT once did, that which I had taken into my life so intimately, for quite some time. I was overtaken by compulsion – IT had to die.
I could taste the blood in my mouth from biting my tongue all these years. I suddenly had an unquenchable taste for the blood – bloodlust they call that. As my closed fist swung through the air, as my hand opened and released IT to crash on the floor, I felt no remorse for IT. There was not an iota of compassion in me for IT, not an ounce of regret for the damage I was doing to IT. I actually enjoyed watching the life-light leaving IT.
I watched myself in dispassion as without my command my foot kicked IT hard. I was unhappy with the lack of painful scream emanating from IT, so I kicked IT again and again.