I was watching a movie earlier and something just hit me. The movie suddenly felt very boring so I got on the computer to play a game. I was sort of aggravated, but nothing I couldn't handle. Then the power went off. The power went off!!! That was it! I just snapped and everything turned black. I had couple of glasses on my desk here - threw them on the floor. Punched the closet door and then I kicked it in. I started marching back and forth around the house, looking for something to destroy. I hit my head in the cabinet few times and threw a PVC pipe that was lying around. I kicked a chair and that was pretty much it.

As a result my knuckles are red, my head sort of hurts, I feel nauseous and lightheaded and can't breathe.

I'm a guy and 24 year old. Got diagnosed with agoraphobia last year and for a short period of time I was on Seroxat. A year before that I started having severe episodes of social anxiety and panic attacks. I was shacking, couldn't breathe, felt like running away from whatever situation I was in.

I've had a few anger outbursts before, but not as nearly as vile as the one I got earlier so that goes to say that I'm not getting any better, I'm getting worse.

I'm single, probably depressed, and socially inadequate to the point where I can't land a date. And when I was younger (17-18) I thought I needed a girl to be happy, but then I realized I was wrong. Now, though, I really WANT to have a girl so that I can prove to myself that I'm normal and good for something at least. Can't bear the thought that tons of morons out there can muster up the courage and stupidity to talk to a chick and I even have a hard time going to the market to get some groceries. It's not fair. I never wanted to be anything exceptional or special. Just wanted a normal life with a normal job and a few friends. I am I not entitled to that much at least? Why should I take all that crap just so I can "enjoy life"? Where is the joy? No matter what I do or say, things only deteriorate to worse and worse and worse.

I use to find comfort in drawing, but lately I'm starting to hate it. It just doesn't bring me joy anymore. It's only good to distract myself from the next panic attack which counts for something I guess.