Impotent Bloodlust
------------------

For as long as I can reliably remember, I've fantasized about killing people.
That's not a very long time, don't get me wrong--I can only say it was about five or six years at the most with any certainty.
It's always the same sort of scenario--somebody insults me, I get him to throw a punch, and I make him bleed. Or I just break his neck, etc.
My "fantasies" for this sort of thing always involve me being slim, flexible, and swift.
I just realized why about half an hour ago.
When I was in third and fourth grades, I went to an almost all-black school. Things went fine until I was put into an emotional support classroom with certain kids in it.
These other kids didn't have emotional problems at all--they were just assholes. And they would harass me every day about something or other until I threatened them, at which point the teacher would put me in time-out or send me to the office, etc.
I wanted to kill them.
I wanted very badly to kill them.
I'd chased after them countless times on the playground when they started insulting me there; but, since they were in much better shape than I was--in addition to any evolutionary advantages being black might have conferred upon them--I never came anywhere near catching them.
Probably just as well, right?
If I had caught one, he'd have died, and I'd have been locked away.

But...

That knowledge isn't enough to make the desire go away.
It's been over ten years now, but deep down I still want to kill those bastards.
It's pointless, I know.
I don't remember what they looked like--not that it matters, since they're much older now.
I don't even remember their names.
They've most likely moved away to go to college by now.
And they're probably still faster than me.