Unforgiven

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.

When I still got an unsatisfactory response, I began to stomp on IT.  Repeated stomping, as hard as my crippled body could manage still did not satisfy me.  My newfound bloodlust would brook no withdrawal, no retreat to calm.  I grabbed IT and drug IT up from the floor, and in my mind’s eye I could see my own face, an evil, wicked, frightening grin of sadistic pleasure on my lips, hate and anger and rage in my eyes.  I resembled no one I had ever seen in a mirror.

Yet there was no stopping now, the deed must be done to completion.  I smashed IT back on the floor with all my strength, and resumed stomping until there could be no doubt that IT was dead.  Several violent minutes went by before I was finally satiated by  ITs decisively dead and battered remains on the floor.

Peace and calm finally took hold again of my body, my mind, but they came too late to save IT.

Do not grieve for ITIT feels no pain now.  IT is permanently at rest, and that is as it should be.  ITs time was long since over.  Our time was overdue for an ending.

And do not grieve for me.  I am free of IT, and I feel the freedom coursing through my veins, like meth and opium and all those addictive illicit drugs rolled up in a tootsie-roll of freedom.  I am happy IT is dead, and you should be happy for me.   Somehow I think IT would also be happy for me, if IT weren’t… y’know… dead.  I want to sing, free and proud and strong, an anthem to freedom that has yet to be written.

My only regret was that I could not control the dragon within me until my daughter was not nearby.  She witnessed ITs death in shock and horror, and will probably not speak to me for quite some time.  She’s a bit sensitive that way.   I can tell she’s very upset about the death of IT, and about having to witness her father kill IT in such a fit of uncontrollable rage.

I think she might be a little scared that I was angry with her.  I wasn’t, and none of this was her fault.  I don’t really understand why she’s so upset about all of this.

IT was just a cell phone, fer cryin’ out loud!

11 Responses to “Unforgiven”

  1. Thomas Brock Says:

    I’m glad that you’re free from the restraints of a cellular life…It’s an existence that I wish for, at times…

    And then I come back to reality and check my email and the interwebs.

  2. Lou FCD Says:

    Addiction is hell, ain’t it?

  3. Martyn Says:

    Sorry you have had such a hard time. I am sure your daughter will understand. She seems like a very inteligent young lady.

  4. Lou FCD Says:

    Actually she got over it rather quickly, and all is well in the universe again.

    I was pleasantly surprised, which is not an uncommon occurrence when dealing with her.

  5. timmi Says:

    KILL IT AGAIN!
    KILL IT AGAIN!

  6. Lou FCD Says:

    ITs broken body currently lies in state upon my desk, mocking me with ITs presence.

    I may yet kill IT again…

  7. anothersadsong Says:

    I’m not mad at you and I know you’re not angry with me. I”m the good child, remember? However, I was scared because I’d never seen that dragon before. Not from you. I wasn’t expecting it. It scared the living day lights out of me. You get angry, you yell and curse–that’s it.

    I love you and I accepted Timmi’s offer. =]

  8. Lou FCD Says:

    I didn’t know anyone had interwebs access down there.

    I love you too, and I’m very proud of you.

    Just don’t take on more than you can handle, OK?

    Don’t you worry ’bout that dragon. That dragon was mostly laid to rest many many years ago, and only occasionally comes out to play, and it would never be directed at anyone unless they were trying to physically hurt someone.

    Items of technology, like the damned laptop which isn’t connecting again however, should be on their best behavior.

    🙂

    Love,
    Dad

  9. criminyjicket Says:

    man does that sound familiar. My boss used to call me constantly while i was way up in the air working. I broke him of it by tossing the phone when it rang. It only took 6 phones for him to stop calling me. oh, they were business phones. *s*

  10. Lou FCD Says:

    Quick learner, that one!

  11. Surgery and the Third Floor « Crowded Head, Cozy Bed Says:

    […] to call and from whom to answer calls and questions. I may have mentioned in passing once or twice on this blog how much I love the telephone, so as necessary as that was, it was a fairly […]


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