

My little brother punched me. Not too long ago. Less than an hour ago. His hit landed on the side of my nose and right in my eye. But I guess it was my fault. I grabbed him by the back of his shirt. And yanked backwards. I was just feeling so tired of him trying to run my life. Saying what I could and couldnapos;t do. I was the one who took care of him for three years of his life. I am the one who is almost four years older than him.
I wanted to tell him off. He had been bugging me for so long about getting off of my computer. Sure I got it taken away for the day but Mom said I could get on it. He has no right to tell me what to do. He thinks he knows every thing but he doesnapos;t.
I cried. First thing I did. I turned away, threw the phone that was in my hand across the room, dropped to the ground, and cried. Not because it hurt, and man did it. I cried because I wanted to break his wrist and then wrap my finger around his neck and squeeze until he stopped breathing. And if he would have hit me like that four years ago I would have. I would have done it until he was only an inch away from death. I�had bad anger management back then. I didnapos;t think as much as I do now.
I always and only cry when Iapos;m so pissed that-that I start thinking like that and I can do nothing about it. I heard my mom tell him that she should get me out of my room to hit him back. An eye for an eye. He hits you, hit him back. Next time heapos;ll think twice.
But I knew I wouldnapos;t have been able to. I was almost tempted to tell her it wasnapos;t a good idea to let me. Once I�started I wouldnapos;t want to stop. And even though I didnapos;t believe that when I thought it I realized later that I probably would. I wouldnapos;t want to but I wouldnapos;t be able to stop.
But I also knew that I wouldnapos;t hit him. I couldnapos;t hit him. I�wouldnapos;t be able to hit anyone. I talk like I could kick the crap out of everyone, and I probably could, but I�know that I wouldnapos;t be able to even flick one of them. I�donapos;t like causing pain. I know what pain feels like and I donapos;t want others to feel like I do.
I just wasted your time if youapos;ve read this far. So I thank you for doing so. You didnapos;t have to read this. And you probably think I need mental help for what I feel when things like that happen. But those thoughts are to me like beating up their pillow is to other people. Itapos;s a form of release. (Along with the self harm I sometimes inflict upon myself. Not too proud of that but it works. Calms me down really quick.)
The end.
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