Don't Let This Carry on Too Long

I woke up to find myself in the same position, not moved, not touched, nothing. My empty package lay torn to shreads beside my legs. I sighed loudly, rubbing my weary eyes, before trying to remember my last actions.
I pulled myself up, stumbling about until I was steady enough on my feet to find someway back home. I knew Sean wouldn't be around to pick up what felt like a worthless soul at the moment - not that he's never seen me like this before, but for some reason, I felt worse than usual, and I knew that would effect him badly.

I slowly drifted to the edge of the gate, at the enterance. The moon was the only thing lighting my way, no headlights from cars, no streetlights, no souls, just me. I knew my way home from here, it would just take a while, but I needed that, room and time to clear my head before returning home and explaining myself.

I hated Ponty at night. Detested it to be honest. Nothing seemed right when there was very few people around. I took a breather outside Tescos, leaning hopelessly against the wall, probably looking like a homeless guy to the employees! I rolled up my sleeve to check the time, my fucking watch was smashed to pieces. My watch that I spent nearly £1,000 on. For fuck sake, I was such a careless twat at times.
Something built up inside me that I couldn't control, some sort of rage that washed over me like a sea, and before I knew it my hand was throbbing and spitting blood from every pore. "Ian you fucking idiot!" I jerked my hood up before storming off again.

My feet ached with cramps. I just wanted to be home. Home, with the one person I knew could take all this away, I could spend hours wrapped in his warm grip, and right now, I would kill for it!
I continued walking, thinking about Sean, and how I longed for him.

"Oi, you," came a deep voice, barging in on my chain of thoughts. I looked up from the puddles on the ground, and the many pairs of shoes that blockaded them, to find a group of young-ish run down slackers getting hasty, as they started pushing me from one fucker to the next. A part of me wanted to let them have me, kill me, I was already abusing myself, so what's so different about another five-odd people helping? Except speeding up the process.
I decided to rebel against them, I wasn't in the mood to deal with young peoples shit at the moment.
"Get your filthy fucking paws off me, dickhead" I bellowed - choosing my words carefully as you can tell.
"What was that gay boy?" One of them chanted, spitting his words into my face.
"What are you, deaf and fucking ugly? I said get your filthy pathetic paws off me" Another burst of rage rised deep within me, causing me to lash out at the ringleader who was trying to intimidate me.
I'm known for my mouth offs with people, these rants have got me into serious shit in the past. I didn't usually need to fight. I was an expert at verbally assaulting people, and one thing that didn't work on me was intimidation.
His fist connected with my jaw, before his foot repeatedly jolting into my stomach.
I lay on the ground, clenching my stomach, holding back the screams of pain I was ready to unleash. I managed to slowly drag myself up again, swinging at the closest group member I could get, knocking him out. He slowly dropped to the floor, lying in a pool of his own blood.

I realised then, that that was the worst thing I could've done.