Somebody help me tame this animal I have become

Winter came overnight.  But isn’t that how it always seems, in retrospect?  A continuous series of sudden actions, continuous use of the passé composé?  "She wasn’t as cryptic as she liked to believe…"

I heard the animal song–you know, the one by Three Days Grace– for the first time today.  It actually woke me up this morning.  And for the first time in a long time, I could actually "relate" to a song on the radio. a medium I avoid at all costs.  And I know there’s angsty teenagers all over the country saying, "Yes! I am an animal too!  I am dark and brooding!  But it’s not the real me, I swear!  Help me to believe!" 

But there is no one to help me to believe otherwise.  And this is the real me.  And I am not dark and brooding, I am viscious.  I am angry.  I am violent.  I became "this animal" so long ago that I don’t even remember NOT being like this.  I can’t even say this eloquently.  I hate happy people.  I resent babies and small children.  I want to rip the smiles off their faces and the happiness out of their lives like mine was.  I want them to hate themselves because it’s not fucking fair that I do.

"No one would ever change this animal I have become."

It might be better, more bearable, if I could remember "becoming" like this.  But as far as I know, I always have been.  Like this.  Like me.  And that’s worse.  Because then, maybe it’s not my fault.  And then I can’t ever fix it.

I don’t know why I bother.  No matter what I do or how hard I try, the simple fact remains that I have always been, and will always be, alone.  Because that’s the way it has to be.