It's so easy to feel wronged.

I know that I'll never have kids because I can't trust myself with them. I know that if something happens to upset me I won't even think twice about doing things I'll regret. Like today. I regret today.

It was completely instantaneous, how I threw the coat hanger on the floor, and how it bounced up and hit our living room chandelier, and how loud the sound was, and how much it hurt to be hit by glass.

It was completely instantaneous, how I dug my fingers into my hair and started screaming, screaming even though the door was open, for all our neighbors to hear the screams of the bitch next door, and how much it hurt to be hit by him, open-palmed and throbbing.

I really hope it bruises so I have an excuse to throttle him.

It was completely instantaneous, how I grabbed what was left off the coat hanger and the chandelier, and how I was so blinded by what was nothing but rage I started hitting him and throwing pieces of glass at him, and how much it hurt to feel shards piercing my palm, now slick with blood that's clearer than I thought.

It was completely instantaneous, how I ruined him so he could never curse at me again, and how my nails became knives I dug into arms and hands so he could never hit me again, and how I sought his lips and his head so he would stop screaming and give us away.