(no subject)
i pressed my knuckles once against the wall softly, looking at the shadow it cast against the paint. i wondered at that moment how much my soul weighed...how much impact it would take for me to crumble into pieces. i remember biting my lip, hissing at the thought i was going to be tormented forever, and i slung my arm back and forward again, hitting the wall. this time there was no damage, but the second i was pleased to hear the bones in my fist cracking. the third, i heard my index finger snap. the forth, the wall begin to crumble. i didn't sob, only looked at my fist, fingers crudely turned and black. sometimes i wonder if you have to break first before anything else will.