February 7, 2017
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Never have I ever felt like such a prisoner to the emotion of anger than I have this recent year. I used to be much more humble. I used to take deep breaths, and count to ten, only now my anger has risen. It’s risen and I’ve lost my ten. Now I take breaths that weigh tons, and I’ve lost my tolerance; my ten had gone down to a nine.

I used to be Sylvia. Only now when I hear my name, I can’t remember the once sweetheart who used to be mad at such small things, microscopic things, back when legos would fall and I’d have to start again. Or when a cartoon ended on a cliffhanger and I’d wait for weeks for it to come back and answer all my unanswered questions; back when I was younger.

Now that I’m almost sixteen, I fear many things.

I fear losing the one person I’d fallen in love with because of my anger. I fear one day I’ll hurt him, or say something that does more damage than a Spanish Armada. I fear my words and tears will cut and burn him, leaving him with scars, causing him to want to run away.

I fear the road. What if one day, when I gain the freedom of travel in a vehicle, my “road rage” will take a wrong turn for me.
I fear myself. I fear using my hands for harm in spite of anger; my anger leads to the need for using my hands. I often long to hit the nearest object, or kick a tree. I turn into a burning rose with thorns that prick and poke at you.

I bottle in my anger and when I finally get a chance to let it out, I let it out. I’ll cry out what I need through my tears, feeling relieved.


I feel as if I’m locked with chains around my wrists and ankles and around my torso as a vest.

It’s not like a simple fire in a pit for roasting marshmallows cold breezy summer night   that you could easily take out with water.
It’s not the pressure in a soda bottle, so easy to let out with one smooth twist.
It’s heat waves on the surface of the earth-It’s heatwaves on the surface of our own sun.
For me, words never work. I try my hardest to say what I want, but I always end up ruining them.
For me, “There are moments that the words don’t reach.” (Angelica Schueler).

I know I’m more than this. I know that my anger can be controlled. I know people who can help me and I now seek their help. I’m finding new ways to keep calm and bring happiness back into my heart.

And if you too are somebody who understands how this feeling is, I advise you to please do the same.

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