screaming into pillows.

When I was younger I used to channel excess energy, either good or bad, by screaming into a pillow. It seemed the best way to let off steam. I could scream as loud and long as I wanted and not worry about being too loud and crazy or upsetting my mom. It was perhaps the most fantastic thing I taught myself to do. Somewhere in the span of growing up I forgot those pillow moments. I replaced down filled rectangles with friends who would listen when I'm sad or upset. My pure excitement and joy was channeled into other things such as laughter or words that more effectively expressed my feelings. Today, amid a moment of frustration and slight panic, as result of life claustrophobia, I remembered the pillow. Even the thought of screaming until my lungs ran out of air made me feel better. Then, I put a one sentence, nondescript statement, out into the world via twitter, "There are just some frustrations that aren't worth it. Right?" I'm not even sure what I meant and yet it made me feel better. As my fingers typed the words, the frustration seeped into the keys, onto the screen and out into an unknown world. Relief. A new method of copping? A way to forcefully eject the emotion, through it back to where it came from. Perhaps just a band aid. I still may go and scream into my pillow just for kicks.