A Review: Screaming Into the Void

I feel a compulsion to scream my lungs out.

It comes suddenly — this intense desire to go kinda primal, which is out of character for me. To allow something in my core that needs to get out by way of shouting until my voice is hoarse or completely done and dusted for the day. It dawns on me that the need has been building for a while.

I don’t even recall the last time I screamed. Most likely a few years back when I clocked a huge cockroach skittering across my floor.

I’d rather see a flock of roaches than feel how I feel now. But we don’t always or often get to choose how we feel.

This urge occurs after I find that my general go-to of a guttural Shower Cry while trying to wash some sadness off my back is no longer satiating my need to fight off my emotional ailments.

After I dry off there’s still plenty of lead to get out of the system.

Maybe this free-form water-logged sobbing has been a sort of gateway drug and now I need something more to scratch the itch.

Could also be that things are compounding and the levy is going to break in a way mere tears can’t fully accommodate.