On Anger

October 7, 2017
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It’s that feeling again.


That icy fire, that blazing snowstorm, a suffocating hurricane, a hazy, blurry, messy mist. Lightning rips through blood vessels and all surroundings are cast in an ugly red light. Everything twists and turns inside, as if a nauseating poison has been slipped down the throat. Memories crack, thoughts are fragmented, and vision shakes.


Anger. Uncontrollable anger. A desire to rip through every tangible thing in sight and then start ripping through the intangible things, too. Pain, Wrath. Fury.


And finally, slowly, eventually, the wax melts, and the anger burns out, and the earthquake has passed.






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