violently

My thoughts are like violent waves crashing against the rocks. Imposing, overwhelming, unstoppable. They churn and make my stomach sick. It aches, it burns, I vomit while brushing my teeth. The biggness of what-I-want-to-be against the scrim of the-smallness-of-me... far too big to fit. It looms, colossal, like some toothy black monster who is far beyond being stuffed in the closet or under the bed. It all smashes in my brain. My insides shiver violently, very literally (I wonder if anyone else ever feels it), every muscle tensed and quivering. Violent. Tears sit perched on the brink. I feel the pressure in my sinuses, behind my eyes. Smashing, smashing. It smashes me. In my head I see concrete walls and crash test dummies, breaking glass and metal debris.
I want- I need - need need need everything so big and so bad. I'm so much bigger than I can contain... I can only sit quietly, stiffly, achingly, sickly, burningly, sluggishly, bones creaking, midsection expanding, stomach acid chewing away... pulled in every direction simulanteously. Only my skin keeps the bloodmusclecartilagesineworganstendonsbonesbrains from exploding in a giant pink cloud of mist. But the skin can't keep my mind inside. The violence. It is all violent. It was born that way, created that way, shaped that way, remains that way.
There are things so big, too big, too impossible... they tire me. I need to do so much that I do nothing. It sticks in my brain and can't be screamed out, can't come out in all the tears and snot and burnt vocal chords. Inhibition and sheer laziness settles on top and prevents me from trying.
If I were a cutter, blood would flow on nights like this... only to jar me back into only five senses.
I am not a cutter.
My stomach is burning. It hurts like 14. There is a ball of air stuck in my throat.
I just can't be BIG enough. It's all so big. The mountain to climb is so big and I am so small. I cannot force it to be easier. I can't even stop wanting the things I shouldn't want.
Finally... a breath. This is sobering. It provides a shot-glass worth of comfort. Perhaps that comfort comes from the labeling: of things I shouldn't want as things I shouldn't want. It feels better than labeling them as things I want, things I need, but can never have. I haven't the first clue what I need.