'exploding with angst'.

i need to scream. i'm so freakin' worked up, really over nothing, that i can almost feel an imaginary dagger, no, parang, in my hand. i am so ready to stab. to kill. to dig his guts dead. i want to stab it so deep into the one person i hate the most and watch the life drain out of his very eyes. to watch him go pale and die. to finally sigh in relief, knowing that i did the world a favour- i killed him.

but, of course, i can't. i can't stab him. i can't kill him. okay, i can. but i, obviously, will too die together with him, in a matter of days. i will be put on death sentence. considering my age though, maybe just a lighter sentence. but still, i can't... and that kinda sucks.

screw the possibilities man. tonight, as i close my eyes to sleep. as i bid reality goodbye for a mere 6 hours of sleep, i will grip the parang in my hand ever so tight and stab you in my dreams. yes, dreams. and tomorrow as i say hello to wonderful reality, i'll wake with a smile on my face. i'll wake with the pleasure of the thought of you dead.

god bless the day you die.