Clench your fists. Take a deep breath. Yes, remember to breathe.
It is not normal for me the psychologic factor behind fighting. Probably the "macho" bullshit is the more usual or the instinct of survival or what the fuck. The fact that I don't give a remotous fuck about it makes arguing about it useless. The fact is that, before a fight, in my mind there is all this pictures coming, showing me what I think is going to happen. I see a black and white world where I'm part God, part Demon, but most of all an enormous agressor. I see myself as this dark gigantic creature and, in the end of it, no matter what, I destroy something or someone. It doesn't matter, something has to be destroyed even if it is me.
But the truth is this, during a fight we deliver pain as a blessing. Truth is like poison and blood all together, and death is a dream as real as life being a curse.
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