I get it.
I get how you can want to
wrap your hands around his neck
and squeeze until the life
fades from his eyes.
I get it.
How you can have such
a deep seated hatred
that you can lose yourself
in a fantasy of the macabre.
I get it.
The way the alcohol burns
away the bad day like a
match that sterilizes the needle
just before a shot of magic pixie dust.
I get it.
The way that being selfish is
so, so much easier than being
selfless. Yeah, but the guilt –
that will eat you alive.
I get it.
And I have never been so afraid
of myself as that moment,
that I knew I understood.
The moment I knew exactly
what I might be capable of.