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Have you ever been so angry that the idea of killing something was appealing? That solace came from the warmth of blood? Has the idea of another's pain ever made you cackle in glee? Have the ideas of torture ever released endorphins to caress your mind?
These are the pinnacles of my rage... Once reached, there's always this tiny part of my mind- the objective, critical part that always watches me. It's my only tether to sanity. I've often wondered what I'd be like without that within me. Where would my wraith lead? Would I regret, or would I slip into the depths of insanity, never to return?
My rage is exponential. I'm mellow, normally, but the madder I get, the more things amplify my rage and the greater the growth. My body language deteriorates into a very serpentine mannerism. Lunges like a snake, coupled with demented expressions... I used to even hiss and growl. I become quite feral.
I suppose, though, my fault has never truly had its way. I still manage to suppress the brunt of my anger. I still manage to keep most of my anger under control.
Murder has always been something I've thought myself capable. There's no doubt in my mind that I could take someone's life if angered enough. I know not what degree of rage would shatter the grip of my sanity, but I feel there is a limit. It's a magnitude I've never reached. It's a magnitude I hope I never reach, but there's a breaking point.
For the time being, I've not come to it... so I suppose I'll go back to my sociopathic fantasies until my soul is cleansed of them...
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