I wrote this yesterday:
I am so frustrated, if I could, I would smash my laptop against the corner of my “desk” and then throw it out the window.
I would pull my lamp from its plug and fling it against the wall baseball-style.
I would take my hockey stick and bash my bedside table to pieces.
I would rip my wardrobe doors off with my bare hands and smash my windows with them.
I would light a match and burn up all my books and entire folder of job-search papers.
I would grab a kitchen knife of the counter and bash it into my mattress.
I would take out all my food out from the fridge and stamp on them with my boots.
I would tear my shirts and jumpers and jeans apart and throw them into the fire.
I would smash my glasses and cups and plates onto the wall.
I would throw my phone onto the ground and stomp on it until it becomes an unrecognizable piece of shit.
I would pick up my hockey stick again and bash the thin walls in.
That is my way of venting my frustrations – through imagination, visualisation and keyboard.
Does it help? Not really. I just feel myself getting angrier and angrier.