I am not thinking not really thinking of things. Just feeling. Thoughts are slippery and jumpy. I want to be other. Trapped and limited and caged and wanting to burn and and destroy and slash and hack and call to arms and ride into battle and face my end or what may be on my terms. Not meekly and not existing. I want to ride the horses into battle I want the sound of warriors near and joining the frenzied charge and the ground reverberating from the hooves of thousands of war horses. To not hear my scream, my battle cry. To drive myself through the enemy and out the other side. To rend and tear and end. Not sit here and not like this. Hot and sweaty. Angry. Teeth gritted. Muscles tight and awaiting the fight that will not be. So angry.