Teen Angst.

He stood, rocking on his feet slowly, smiling to the ugly tiled floor. He could feel his heart, or what was left of his heart, pounding against his ribcage, his skeletal system revirberating, his hands shaking, his breath coming in small gasps. They yelled at him, finally truely yelled, and he smiled. Scared to s**t, but he smiled. He knew that one day they would lose it, and he had waited in eager anticipation. It had been awhile since something like this happened, since something pissed him off and struck fear in him so greatly. It was everything he needed. Disrespectful little f**k. He'd been called it so many times before, by himself mostly, but their words were so much sharper. Razorblades burning his wrists and opening bleeding maws, dripping crimson red. Fire. This was his fire, everything he'd always needed to be able to put pen to paper and write. Anger. Fear. Hate. F**k, f**k, f**k. Thrash, thrash, thrash. Hate. He loved it. Black hair fell over his eye as they scolded him. As they critisized and scrutinized his words, as they found his flaws and put them under a microscope, as they screamed all the things that were wrong with him. All of the problems he'd worked so hard on perfecting. Jesus F*****g Christ, they were making him so pissed. He wanted to slit throats, he wanted to rip off flesh and dine on whatever pathetic organs they had, organs they'd destroyed from years of abusing alcohol. But he stood, still rocking slowly on his feet, back and forth, and smiled. The ugly tiles. He smiled at them and listened. Matches upon matches, their words were matches, getting closer and closer to him. He already knew what he was going to write, he already knew what he was going to say. He raised his eyes to their sharp faces, their burning words. He met their scowls and their glowers, and he laughed out loud. He laughed at everything they were saying to him, he laughed at their sheer ignorance. Like he didn't know everything they were telling him? He was a worthless child. A stupid, insane, obscene, brutal, stupid, stupid, stupid little f**k. He laughed at the fact he was going to Hell. He laughed at the fact they were going with him. But most of all, he laughed at the brand new screaming session they would go through when they read everything that he'd written, everything that he was going to write. Stories by the Disrespectful Little F**k. The Broken Little F**k.

He wondered what institution they'd settle on.