stereotypically, an aries is irrational, overridden with rage, aggressive, impulsive. usually i am a complete deviation, perhaps an exception; i don’t fit into the cookie cutter. or so i’d like to think so. i was never exceptional – never completely, anyway.
this is a dedication to the aries that resides inside of me.
i’m sorry about suppressing everything. it’s most likely unhealthy, trying to restrain the fire that manages to get out of control in the end – time and time again my hands are stained with the darkness of my own ashes, the guilt of hurting those around me. humans are never meant to be alone – that’s why we have societies to function – and i have the unfortunate fate of enduring everything alone because i simply don’t know how to explain this; and i would never want to hurt anyone, but intention is never enough. i have no words, no reasons to explain how frustration feels like, it starts out like a mosquito itch and ends up burning the edges of my skin, as if it wasn’t torn apart enough already. it threatens to take over and it makes me lose control, my hands are shaking and my sight blurs. you see – the thing about rage is that it possesses you easily, makes you say words that you wished you just swallowed back into your throat, makes you do things that you wished you could undo, like a simple button you were so used to pressing. deep down, you are yanking on the chains of the demon, but rage only serves to free it and you are left chained by the consequences and aftermath. it is akin to a drunken experience minus the fun, multiply the pain you feel during a hangover. i feel it rush through my veins every night and it hurts; i go to sleep in hopes that it will all end but it is already becoming a part of me and i can’t restrain it, even if i let the numbness kill my senses. the only nightmare i’m facing is the one i could never wake up from, and i pray to god that i would never let anyone see the aries inside of me.
every night i see red and i scream in fear.