The Beginning Of The End

I feel destructive today.


So I got out and ran on the lakefront path. That shit didn't help.


I went out and bought a sledgehammer with a 10 pound head a few months ago, I had plans on purchasing a used tire so I can beat that motherfucker to death and get some upper body strength training in as well as cardio.


I never bought the tire. I have nowhere to put it.


I got into a fight with some cat that lives in my building back on New Years Eve, and that was the last time I touched the thing. I wanted to go grab it and bash his skull in, but I knew he wouldn't wait for me... Plus I calmed down after building security pulled me off of his ass.


I gotta destroy something.


 I pulled my firearm out of storage back in January... I have no intent to use that thing. I will set up a range session when the weather warms up and I feel comfortable enough in my vision to want to go shoot. I have to qualify with my weapon in 2013 anyway... Nah, I don't wanna shoot anything. I feel more the need to use my hands. I'm a more physical cat.


I got a guy... My man B. Carter, whom I worked with at a postal plant back in the day who trained at this suburban, secluded bare knuckles MMA place. He invited me to a fighting exhibition one weekend where I was amazed and enthralled in the pure heart and rigidity of human men who chose to fight. 


The flesh-ripping viciousness and pure heart of men who looked as if they could never hold their fists properly to ever engage in fisticuffs is what took me. 


I saw big, muscular dudes get bent over and spill blood by smaller ones, and lean-bodied cats with relentless viciousness that made me fear their mere presence after watching them keep going even when eyelids were torn and bashed cheekbones swelled their eyes shut.


I've been wanting to do that ever since I witnessed it.


That's what I wanna do. 


I believe if I channel my hatred and angst into pounding my fists into the raw, warm flesh of another living, breathing human being will quiet the voices that call me to want to destroy things in other ways. I feel as if I'm running out of options. Lord, let this be it!


I'm getting older, and I've opened myself so many times over the years that the pain of being lied to, lied upon and emotional betrayal has manifested itself into me wanting to exercising those demons into a physical act. It's a thirst now and not just an urge.


After all of the physicality I've been through in my lifetime, I know if I train too hard or take another good, strategic blow to the head... 


I feel like that may be a rather glorious way of going out.


I've been pushed to my mental, spiritual and emotional limit. I gotta find a way to exercise these demons before I end up crispy-burnt up in a cabin somewhere in Big Bear by the hands of some random law enforcement agency.


Does my admittance of this make me a psychopath?