Nowhere Left to Scream

There is nowhere left to scream any more. Nowhere left to just throw things, just to express frustration. Nowhere safe.

I live in an apartment. If I scream, neighbors call the police. I work in an office. If I scream, co-workers call the police. If I go off into the woods to scream, someone will notice. Someone will call the police.

I'm not crazy. I'm frustrated. I'm angry. I want to let some of this out. I do not have the words to express myself through writing or speech. The words that rush to the surface are all foul, dirty things that are said with a great deal of spit and damage to the vocal cords. They're words that make people think, "insane." Words that make doctors think, "dangerous." Words that don't even come close to expressing what I feel because they're not the right ones. But they're the only ones I have.

I need to go scream somewhere without anyone taking it amiss. I'm not going to turn into some serial killer. I just want to scream. I'm not doing it to scare people. I'm doing it because holding it in isn't helping. I'm not doing it because I actually want to act on my anger and frustration.

I just want to scream.

And there's nowhere left to do it.