I'm not a good person.

I've never thought of myself as a good person.

While I may not be a good person, I'm certainly not a bad one.

However, even with all of that, what I want right now, is the very definition of malice.

At this moment, I want nothing more than to damage the person in front of me. It doesn't matter how. Whether that be me grabbing a knife and watching their expression as the blade enters their body and leaves multiple times. Or I break my knuckles as I pulverise their face and body with punches.

It can be whatever, so long as I hurt them, Badly.

The reason is unimportant to me now at this moment.

That does not mean I don't know what happened in the moments before now.

---

I'll go back a long way. I'll go back to when I had just received my first pair of glasses that somehow always seemed to break at the worst of times.

At the time, as a young boy, I was prevalent to exploding in fits of anger.

With a large family and having some kids my age that I was around loads of the time, I got angry too many times to count.

When I get angry, I get very physical sometimes. For me, venting through physically damaging something or exerting force onto something feels like ascending to heaven and back.

Amid my anger, I grew increasingly violent. With me entering puberty, such anger became nearly impossible to handle. I felt like a volatile missile that would explode at anything that made me feel unpleasant.

I was bullied a little in both Primary and High School. Bullies made fun of my appearance multiple times, creating insecurities that I still struggle to overcome. I entered a terrible place, mentally.

At one point in time, I remember encountering a situation that -nearly- perfectly mimics the one I currently find myself in.

I was in High School, a single-gender school also. It was here that I met a person whose humour did not align with my own.

It was that simple.

That person found humour in cheekiness. However, I had become more tolerant towards others.

In actuality, I was not more tolerant. I was holding emotions within myself. I was bottling feelings inside and allowing them to ferment over time.

That cheekiness pushed boundaries every time I allowed it to go over my head. Further and further it went, until one day, along with the rest of the bullshit I found had tainted my mind, I snapped.

That violence found itself coming in the form of a fight that occurred at a specific spot. Nearly all the people I knew in our year bore witness as I left him on the ground, gasping for air. I don't know what they expected to occur.

All I knew was that I wanted to hurt him. Badly.

So I did.

Once I left him there, I felt the ascendance once more. It was a feeling that was beyond the pleasures of the flesh.

---

So snapping back to now, a few years had passed. Before me stands a guy whose humour I don't understand.

However, I don't let this affect me. I won't give in to the anger.

I'm going to talk to them.

"Hey man, listen. I get that your humour is acting cheekily. I mean, I don't get your humour, so dial it in around me if you could. Do you know what I mean? It's just basic human politeness right now."

There we go, I said it. I surpassed my past self and left myself behind in the dust. Without even realising, I have changed myself for the better. Right now, I'm not some kid with anger management. I can now close my eyes and count to ten slowly.

"What the fuck does that even mean?! 'I don't get your humour'. Shut up. You sound ridiculous." He said to me condescendingly.

I did not know he was going to be like this. I see now that things don't go to plan.

I did not know this guy that well, to be fair.

I believe that I am not the problem because he is.

If I encountered any other self-respecting human, it would be fine. They'd be polite like me. It's simply the fundamental rules of social interactions.

I'm clenching my fists, aren't I?

Hold on, take a deep breath and calm down.

I uncurled my fingers.

"You heard what I said because I know your ears work. Since you paid attention to what I said, your brain understands my words. Now, tone down the cheekiness because last time I let someone get cheeky with me, I ended up having to choke them.

'I sound cheesy as fuck. Why did I say that? Oh my god, I'm cringing so hard.'

I paused momentarily to let him hear my words, but I held my hand up to interrupt any speaking before I finished.

"I'm not trying to act cool- however, I don't want anyone to get hurt. Let's get along."

Based on what I have said, you may think of me as someone who pursued a life that revolved around the gym. That's nowhere near reality.

I'm a skinny 5 foot 10 teenager that knows how to box and kick and has been to the gym enough times to count on one hand. On my body, I do have some muscle. Honestly, the scraps of contractile tissue here and there are not impressive.

I was a nerd, which probably caused the bullying, in my humble fucking opinion.

Standing before me was a guy that was shorter than me. Someone I could hurt if I determined to do so.

Something about me you should know, once I decide to go through with something, I will do it the moment I gather myself.

"Bro, I really can't take you seriously at all! Are you joking? You're genuinely making me laugh so hard." He looked at me like I was a joke. I honestly would like to understand where he gets his confidence from- although that doesn't matter. And it's because I've made a decision.

Firstly, no more speech. I am socially retarded and sound cringy as fuck.

Secondly, they do not deserve my patience. I should sort these people out for society's sake anyway.

Finally, I don't give a fuck anymore.

Beside us are two table tennis tables that are planted firmly into the ground.

---

Grabbing his shirt, I pulled the other guy towards me and punched his nose. Hearing a crack, I get him off balance and knee him in the stomach before I try to slam him onto the table beside us.

Succeeding in the slam, it's already over now. I let the anger take partial control as it powers me through relentless striking that only feels good and not bad.

Right now, I'm hurting him. The people-watching all think someone else will help, but I don't think they will. They are experiencing the bystander effect.

Until he's nothing but a defenceless bloody pulp, I did not stop. As I looked at his heaving chest that indicated the weak breathing, I felt a desire spring up to stab him in his stomach and twist the blade. But I don't.

Alongside the fact I'm not a murderer, there are also no knives nearby.

Anyway, I did speak to him, at least. He just did not appreciate it.

I still have some changes to make. I'm not the perfect me yet.

However, no matter what, it's certainly okay to not be the perfect me yet.

I am different to before, after all.

All I can do now.... Is better myself

----

As I said in the synopsis, nothing is expected here. I might forget I even wrote this but my memory actually might not let me do such a thing.

:)

Have a good day or night to anyone who actually reads this.

And always take care of yourself.