to reiterate:

August 23, 2012


if this thing kicks in a full-blown panic attack, I will not be pleased. I haven’t had one in almost a year. I will, in fact, be so angry (after the panicking) that I will obliterate whole cities with my wrath.

I want to stab things. When I get like this, this strung up, this edging-on-terrified, this sour hard knot of anxious sparking sawn-off fraying electrical wiring chewed on by rats lodged in my gut, when I get like this nowadays I feel in my hand the imaginary heft of a knife-handle. If you ever see me wrap a hand- or both hands- deliberately around air, now you’ll know why. Kitchen knife, long solid blade. Sharp. Reassuringly heavy. It’s a promise.

The thing that breaks this time will not be me.

It’s a reassurance more than anything, and it is damn reassuring, against all the gibbering fears in my head. If I’m going to be taken over by an intense emotion, it’s going to be a ferociously grim anger. Fear paralyses. Anger motivates. And I’m not going to be made helpless, not this time. I can look after myself now. that’s what mental knives are about.

it means: I’m not defenceless. I’m not going to be afraid. I will fight you.


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