Violence

 

I was driving at night again and almost hit a guy instead of a deer this time. It was pissing rain so I could only see a couple feet ahead of me and other car's headlights. He was walking on the road so he wouldn't have to step in the wet grass to the side of the road. I almost didn't see him since he was wearing dark jeans and a black hoodie. It made me angry. This jackass would rather risk his life instead of getting his shoes a little dirty. It's not hard to think that he wanted someone to hit him since he was in dark clothing walking in the middle of the fucking road. I wasn't angry when I first saw him, only once I got down the road I stopped being relieved that I didn't grind him into the asphalt with my tires. I wish I fucking hit him. That scares me a little.

I'm not really outwardly violent. I've had moments where I've stabbed people with pencils or purposely hurt someone because they've made me angry, but most of the time I just fantasize about violence. Calling it fantasizing sounds fucked so I'll call it imagining. I think about fighting people, I enjoy the brutality about it. If they're too loud I imagine that I duck their punch and tackle them to the ground and gouge out their eyes. I think about biting them and tearing out their throat. I know this is wrong but I enjoy it.