There's an anger that wells up in a person. It hurts, and it burns, and I hate that I can feel it so strongly when nothing else seems able to make me truly feel.
My heart clenches up, my eyes feel like they're ready to tear up, and these hands... These hands could do anything.
Except I'm weak. And like everything else, this anger is fleeting. It comes, and it goes, and while it's in me, I damage things. I hurt people. I say words that I know I'll regret.
But in the moment, I don't care. But neither does the anger.
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United States • 21 years old